In Our Darkest Hour
by Jewelgirl04
Summary: *Immediately follows Season 4 Finale* In order to stop Lucifer, Sam and Dean must rely on the help of a woman whose very existence causes the eldest Winchester to question everything he has ever believed in. Dean/OC
1. Chapter 1

Dean's eyes fluttered open, yet immediately squinted against the overwhelming flood of bright light.

_Bright lights. Bright, white lights._

He closed his eyes and the memory came flooding back to him again. Ruby's betrayal, Sam breaking the final seal, Lilith's blood being drained from her body, creating a circle from which an ominous glow erupted towards the sky. The last moment he recalled was a glance between him and Sam before total and utter darkness…

_Sam._

The emerald-eyed hunter shot up from his prostrate position on what seemed to be a large bed and glanced around the sunlit room. After finding his brother lying on a separate bed, fifteen feet from his own, with his chest steadily rising and falling, Dean heaved a sigh of relief. His little brother was safe. For now. But he still had no clue where he was. All he knew for sure was that he was no longer in that convent.

As if on cue, Sam Winchester began to stir and groaned, reaching for his head. "Sammy?" Dean's gravelly voice called out to his brother. "Sammy, you alright?"

The younger brother rubbed at his eyes and cracked one open. "Dean, is that you?"

"Yeah, Sammy. It's me."

Sam grit his teeth together and tried to sit up. "Dean, listen. I…"

His older brother held a hand up. "It was way beyond your control, Sammy. It was out of both our hands before we were born."

The shaggy-haired man swung his legs over the side of the bed to face Dean. "So, what now?"

Dean leaned in closer to his brother and spoke softly, "We figure out where the hell we are."

"You're in New York, in my safe house."

The men whipped their heads around towards the woman standing in the doorway of the cream-colored room, shrouded by the light streaming in from the open windows.

"Who the hell are you?" Dean challenged her, holding a hand up to block the light from his eyes.

The young woman took a step forward and for the first time, came into view.

She looked to be about five feet, seven inches tall with long blonde hair that fell in loose waves to the middle of her back. As she moved closer towards them, surrounded by a halo of sunlight, they could see her in more detail. From the way her black Metallica tank hugged her hips and covered the very top of her low-rise, destroyed jeans to the toned, yet feminine definition of her bare arms and shoulders, every inch of her rock goddess-like physique was now visible.

And despite the fact that she could have possibly been holding them captive, Dean couldn't take his eyes off of her.

"Relax," she assured him and took note to put Sam at ease with a glance, as well. "My goal is the same as yours, Winchesters."

Sam eyed her suspiciously. "How do you know who we are?"

"In our community, Sam," she replied with a smile, stopping right between the foot of each bed, "Everybody knows everybody else."

"But _I_ don't know _you_," Dean answered with a slight edge to his voice.

The blonde laughed and moved forward, placing a hand on his shoulder, allowing him to catch a glimpse of her hazel eyes flecked with green and gold. "I work very hard to keep it that way. You can't be sure who to trust anymore, given the current situation"

Dean was reduced to silence, for the first time in a while. Sam spoke up on both of their behalves, "Who _are _you?"

"Full of questions today, aren't we Sam? I'm Scarlett," the woman, who appeared to be somewhere between the brothers' ages, replied. "Scarlett Lucas."

Dean managed to clear his throat before speaking again, "How did we get here, _Scarlett_?"

"I was driving up from the city when I found you two on the side of one of the country roads out here. You were both out cold," Scarlett informed him with a hint of sympathy. "But I recognized you immediately. I knew something was wrong… it's Lucifer, isn't it? He's rising."

Dean looked away from her, over to Sam, and back again. "Yeah, he's rising."

"Shit," she muttered in disappointment. "Well, for now… there's not much we can do. Hell has begun to rise in Maryland, but it will take time to fully come to the surface."

Sam glanced up at her, "How much time do we have?"

"Thirty days."

"That's it?" Dean asked incredulously, arching his eyebrows. "A month?"

Scarlett sighed heavily. "Look, we're lucky that all of the hunters out there postponed it as long as they did. And we're very fortunate that the two of you lasted as long as you both did. It's more than I could ever have asked of you," she added, sinking onto the bed next to Sam, who was looking as tormented as ever. "Sam, listen to me. I am from a family with a history of battling evil, much like your own. And trust me when I tell you that this was not your fault. This was put into action long before either of you were born, long before I was born, as well. Don't blame yourself for this."

He nodded, only half-convinced by her words.

"Listen, I need to make a trip to the supermarket and I'm sure you guys are starving. Why don't you guys get yourselves showered and cleaned up? There's a bunch of clean clothes in the drawers, all your size. We'll head out whenever you're ready," Scarlett offered, heading back towards the doorway.

"Dude," Dean cracked a slight smirk at his brother, trying to cheer him up. "I am pretty damn hungry."

Scarlett's heart broke for the younger of the brothers. "I promise I will make you the best burgers you've had in your entire life."

Sam slowly glanced up at her and childishly asked, "With bacon?"

"Yeah," she answered with a nod and a smile. "With bacon."

"You go ahead first, Sammy. I'll wait," Dean told his brother. "Besides, you smell a hell of a lot worse than me anyway."

Sam rolled his eyes and rose to his feet. "Thanks, Dean."

* * *

As soon as Sam was in the shower, Dean left the room in search of Scarlett, whose whereabouts were unknown in the relatively large country house.

Faintly, the hunter-slash-con artist could make out the opening tremolos of AC/DC's "Thunderstruck," muffled in the distance. Judging by the dullness of the song, he accurately guessed that his hostess was outside, in the yard. He quickly descended down the stairs and found himself facing the kitchen, which boasted a back door. Sure enough, he could make out the blonde in the yard, tending to what looked like a garden.

Surprised by her nonchalant nature in the face of impending doom, Dean pushed through the door. "Care to tell me why you're planting pretty flowers when we're faced with the literal version of Hell on Earth?"

Scarlett smirked back at him. "My mind is always in overdrive, Winchester. I do my best thinking in this garden. Plus, if you knew anything about plants, you'd know that these aren't for decoration," she added with an eye-roll.

"Ooh… are they magical?" he asked with fake amazement, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"They're used for healing, for strength, and most importantly, when certain ones are combined, they're helpful against demons in ways guns aren't. Manipulation," she added with a wry smile, rising to her feet and pulling off her gloves. "Don't get me wrong though, I'll take a 12-Gauge shot over a borage plant any day of the week."

Dean's fists, which had unconsciously balled at his sides, relaxed, as did his mind. "You like guns?"

"Who doesn't?" Scarlett chewed on her lip and dropped the gloves to the ground. "Guns, cars, and music. Every girl's best friends."

"No diamonds?"

"I don't need diamonds," she scoffed at the notion. "I'm not a princess. I'll take a muscle car over a diamond ring any day."

"Nice," Dean returned, impressed as he approached her. "You have good taste in music too. The Razor's Edge is a staple in my car."

Suddenly, his face fell.

_My car. My Impala. My baby._

"Bobby has the Impala," she told him, snapping him out of his funk. "I had it towed back to his place for a few repairs to the body. Both he, and the car, are in good shape. For now, you'll just have to ride on my wheels."

_Don't mind if I do…_

"You know, you seem to know a lot about me and I know zilch about you," Dean remarked, taking a few steps forward with his trademark swagger.

"Ask away."

"How do you know so much about Sammy and me?"

"My father," Scarlett began, "Is pretty big in the world of the supernatural. He made it a point to make sure that in the case I ever needed help, I knew of every person who could help me. He taught me everything I know."

"Did he know my father?"

She nodded, "Yes. And he was very grateful to him for all of the work he did while he was alive. I met him once. He was a great man… spoke very highly of his three boys."

Dean's eyes darkened and it was then Scarlett knew she'd hit a sore spot. "Yes," she spoke softly. "I'm so sorry about Adam, Dean."

His eyes quickly reverted and his walls went back up. "What is that around your neck?"

"This?" she asked, grasping onto the intricately-carved rectangular pendant around her neck. "It's a silver Torah, a means of protection and a reminder of my roots. My father gave it to me."

"Where is your father now?"

"He's around."

"And your mother?"

"Died when I was ten."

"Mine died when I was four," Dean offered as a means of consoling her. "Listen, not to be an insensitive ass or anything, but why did you take us back here to take care of us? Sammy and I… we're demon magnets and the last thing you need in your life…"

"Don't tell me what I need and don't need in my life, Dean. I'm a hell of a lot stronger and more capable than you think I am," the blonde retorted icily. "I'm not one of those blonde bimbos you hook up with in a bar. Just because I have a body, doesn't mean I don't have the brain."

Dean's emerald gaze roamed her body. "I'll say…"

She took two steps forward and pushed his chin up until their eyes locked. "Just because I have Metallica emblazoned across my chest does NOT mean you have an excuse for more than a passing glance."

Dean Winchester's eyes smoldered. "Does that mean you don't want me to stare?"

Scarlett opened her mouth to reply, only to hear Sam call out, "Dean! You're up!"

His older brother turned around and bulged his eyes out at him, mouthing, _You're killing me._

"I'll put all of my crap away in the garage. Go get your ass in the shower," Scarlett ordered. "We'll be waiting."

Dean nodded and watched as she walked away, tilting his head to get a better view of what was under her acid-washed jeans.

Suddenly, her light voice cut through his thoughts. "Stop staring at my ass, Dean!"

He pursed his lips and whipped around to face his brother at the back door to the house. "Way to be a cockblocker, Sammy."

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for taking the time to read my first Supernatural story. I came up with this on the train ride home from work and cannot wait to get the chapters rolling. **

**As for Scarlett, you'll learn a lot more about her personality and her life in the next two chapters and expect Chapter 3 to be short, but to drop a major bombshell that's going to involve one of your favorite characters not yet discussed in this story, but also change the game COMPLETELY. **

**I think you'll like where this is going. Please let me know what you think of the story, especially my personification of the Winchester boys and the introduction thus far.**

**Please review!**

**Danielle**


	2. Chapter 2

As Dean ran the shower for himself, his shirt now laying on top of his bed, he noticed a phone charger on his night stand. Looking closer at the shipping box it rested on top of, he realized that Scarlett must have ordered it and had it sent to the house just for them.

He pulled his cell phone out of his leather jacket strewn on a chair and attempted to jolt it back to life. Dean studied the small, blue screen and then scowled as it turned black.

Nothing.

"Damnit," the older Winchester grumbled as he kicked off his boots and walked into the bathroom.

* * *

"Hey, Scarlett?"

The blonde pushed the last of her tools into a storage cabinet in the garage and turned around. "Yeah, Sam?"

"Can I ask you something?"

She nodded and took a step towards him. "Sure, what's up?"

"Do you ever regret…" Sam started then paused to run a hand through his shaggy hair. "Taking up the hunt?"

Scarlett kicked the door shut behind her and walked to the start of the driveway, where her fellow hunter was waiting. "You know, I ask myself that question all of the time."

"Do you ever come up with an answer?"

"Yeah," she bobbed her head in agreement, her curls bouncing with it. "I realize that I have an overwhelming desire to be what I consider normal. By this point in my life, I should have had a few serious boyfriends, possibly on the verge of getting married and starting a family. Maybe, working on being made partner at a law firm. I should have had the opportunity to do whatever I want, at the very least. But hunting is in my blood, Sam. Just like it's in yours. And no matter how much we try to fight it or convince ourselves that we can have what we perceive to be a normal life, there's no escaping it. For us, this _is_ normal."

Sam shook his head. "You make it seem so simple."

Scarlett let out a casual laugh. "You have no idea how much time I had to put the pieces together."

"How do you deal with all this?" the younger Winchester continued to press her, but she didn't appear bothered by his questions. "Twenty-six years have passed and I still can't figure it out."

"Look, Sam. I know you're wondering why can't you deal with it as well as Dean or I do." She looked down at her shoes and then back at the much taller person to her left. "And to tell you the truth, Dean and I deal with everything in very different ways. "

He eyed her strangely. "What do you mean?"

"Your brother and I…" she rubbed her cheek, trying to find the words. "Feel very differently about our lives. I feel like I'm hunting because it's what I'm meant to do in order to make a difference in the world."

Sam continued to press her, "And Dean?"

She crinkled her nose in thought. "I think that Dean feels like it's something he has to do to make everything okay again, for him and for you. And he resents that you both can't have normal lives."

In disbelief, he sunk to the ground and leaned against the side of the house. "For a girl I just met, you seem to know my brother a hell of a lot better than I do."

She extended a lightly tanned hand towards the ground and sat down beside him. "It's because we both have destinies we've spent all of our lives trying to avoid."

"But if it wasn't for me, there'd be nothing for either of you to avoid," he responded guiltily, staring off into the horizon.

"I didn't say what I did before just to make you feel better, Sam," she told him, looking out, as well. "I said it because it's true. It started with Campbells… and it was always going to end with one, even if his last name _is_ Winchester."

Sam sighed heavily, "Maybe."

Scarlett turned her head towards him, her hazel eyes studying his face intently. "Tell you what," she started and stood up, brushing off her jeans. "We're going to do something that's going to make you forget about everything for a little while."

Sam swiveled his head around as she walked back into the garage, searching for something. "What are you talking about?"

"When I need to clear my head," the blonde explained, disappearing from his line of vision, "There's only one thing that helps. If only I could find my spare… ah! Found it!"

He watched as the lithe blonde woman came into view, holding a white box. "What is that?"

Scarlett flipped him the box with one hand. "Open it and see for yourself."

Catching the cube, Sam pulled open the top and looked inside. "A helmet?"

"Sam," She smiled at him, as she pushed her now un-covered motorcycle out of the garage. "Have you ever been on a motorcycle before?"

"Can't say that I have," he tilted his head to the side and eyed Scarlett. "Were you wearing that jacket before?"

She looked down at her arms, enveloped in a black, leather riding jacket, and shook her head. "No, I left it out here the last time I went riding. Now, are you gonna come or what?"

"I've never driven one of these before, Scarlett," Sam laughed at her. "I'll kill myself."

She rolled her hazel eyes and straddled the bike. "I'm not letting you drive! I was asking you if you want to ride with me?"

Sam moved his head from side to side as he mentally weighed the pros and cons of riding, but when he saw her start up the jet black bike with blue flames and watched as it was consumed in an electric blue glow from the lamp lights, he couldn't say no. He pulled out the helmet and slid it onto his head. "Ah, what the hell. Now's the time to start living, right?"

Scarlett pushed her own black helmet, with silver and blue blade-work, onto her head and tucked in her blonde hair. "Exactly. Now, climb on and put your arms around my waist."

The younger Winchester did as he was told, climbing onto the bike, and was soon pressed against her. "Arms around your waist?"

"No one's going to see you, Winchester. Man up."

"Right, right…" he nodded and placed his sweatshirt-covered arms around her waist. "Now what do I do?"

The buxom blonde revved the engine twice and then smirked. "Hold on."

And with that, they sped off and out of the driveway, into the afternoon sun.

* * *

Dean emerged from the bedroom about an hour later, his hair still dripping with water, and lacking a shirt. With a smirk, he wandered around the house, looking to accidentally bump into the goddess-like woman that was Scarlett Lucas. While she had certainly saved he and his brother from whatever still lurked in the darkness, it didn't mean that he couldn't thank her in his own way…

Even if his own methodology was kind of what he desired anyway.

He couldn't deny that she was sexy and he certainly dug blonde chicks. In fact, it appeared as though with every passing minute, her hotness factor increased. But when he had covered all of the square footage of the house, and she, nor Sam, was anywhere to be found, Dean forgot all about his attempts to bed the blonde and focused on finding his little brother.

* * *

For the first time in what seemed to be forever, Sam found himself reveling in freedom, freedom that only the open road could bring. The beautiful, rolling countryside whipped past him at first, the colors blending together into an impressionist painting. But as soon as he adjusted to his surroundings, he experienced a world that he'd never seen before.

He'd lost track of the time since they'd left. Had it been minutes? Hours? He didn't know. But frankly, he didn't care. Not once had he thought about his father, his mother, Dean, Ruby, or Lucifer, nor the part he played in each of their existences, or lack therof. It was just him, the open road, and Scarlett Lucas, the woman who had probably saved his life once and more than likely, saved his sanity with just her motorcycle.

He slowly loosened his grip on the driver, allowing himself to lean back and take it all in for a little while longer.

Scarlett smiled beneath her helmet as she felt him shift. He deserved this much, a happy moment to savor… because she wasn't really sure how many more happy moments Sam Winchester would have over the course of the next thirty days.

* * *

"Sam?" Dean's voice rumbled through the house as he opened random doors on the top floor, hoping to find his brother inside. He looked out the back window, wondering if Scarlett was showing him around her garden. No such luck. "Sammy?" he repeated, to no avail yet again, as he descended down the stairs, throwing a black tee-shirt on over his head.

He and Sam had survived Lucifer's rise in Maryland, yet he had just managed to lose his brother while he took his time trying to get their hostess into the sack.

_Really fucking smart, Dean. Way to think with the appropriate appendage._

Dean made his way into the backyard, hoping that his view of his brother in the yard would be obstructed from upstairs, but yet again, he was wrong. Then out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that the garage door was open. Slowly and quietly, Dean moved towards the driveway and noticed that the side that was open contained the track marks of a inline set of wheels. But before he could draw any further conclusions, the older Winchester brother heard a rumbling sound coming from way down the street, to his left.

He took a few steps away from the garage and set his eyes on a small figure in the distance that grew larger as it grew closer. Then it turned into the driveway and sped towards him. He recognized the passenger of the motorcycle immediately by his tall, lanky frame and shook his head as the engine idled. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Sam pulled off his helmet, the faint remnants of a bright smile still present, and looked at his brother. "Nothing, but you seem to have a problem."

"Sammy, you can't just take off when I'm in the shower to go joyriding. Although, it's not like there are a whole bunch of demons out there after us or anything," Dean retorted angrily as his brother dismounted the bike.

Scarlett pulled off her helmet, her blonde tresses cascading down around her, and looked over at Dean. "First of all, he was out there with me, not some random stranger. Give him a little more credit than that," she continued, dismounting the bike and walking over to him. "Secondly, I'd never _ever_ let anything happen to Sam, not just because we need him, but because he's your brother."

Dean attempted to keep his cool as he was absolutely schooled by the young woman who embodied the volatility of a stick of dynamite and tried to avoid looking further downward than was warranted.

_Metallica shirt, ripped jeans, riding boots, leather jacket, and a motorycycle,_ he mentally ticked off in his head. _Add ten to the hotness factor._

"So you're just going to stand there and not say _anything_ at all?" Scarlett challenged him, folding her arms in front of her and, as Dean noticed, inadvertently pushing up her chest.

Dean tilted his head to the right and arched an eyebrow. "Pretty much."

"Awesome," the woman snapped back sarcastically and then turned towards his brother. "Sam? You get shotgun. It's too bad the car has a backseat. I'd really like to stuff your brother in the trunk."

Sam started to walk towards the garage and Scarlett followed, "You know that we can still put him in there, right? I think the two of us could overpower him enough to squeeze him in there."

"You think so? It'd be worth a shot."

Dean watched them as they continued plotting against him while walking away and furrowed his brow. "You two know that I can hear you, right?"

* * *

**A/N: I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much, if not more, than the last. Hopefully, you're starting to see Scarlett's personality a little more. **

**I'm sure that some of you are probably wondering why there's a little inconsistency in the chapter. Such as how Scarlett conveniently has her jacket in the garage or how she seems to know so much about Sam and Dean, despite only having really interacted with them for a day. I promise you, it's not an oversight or my lack of attention to detail on my part. I take a lot more care in my work than that. It's actually rather significant.**

**The next chapter will prove to be a little more explanatory and a character you've yet to find out the fate of will reappear. So, I guess that's a bit of a teaser for you!**

**Shout-outs:**

**Eminemchick15 – **Thank you. I hope you like this chapter, as wel!

**Maron771121 – **Your wish is my command… except, well, I'm not a dijin, so don't worry about me draining you of your blood. So, that's good, right? Hope you like it!

**Prboricua7 – **Thank you for the praise and since you asked for this update, I really hope you enjoy it.

**Nancy - **Aw, girly! Thanks for the review and for allowing me to bounce ideas off of you. You have no idea how much that helps and how much it means to me! :-)

**Angelofthenight - **Haha, you catch on quickly. You'll see soon enough. Thanks for the feedback!

**Please review, as I can only improve with your feedback. Like the four LOVELY and FABULOUS readers above, I will always reply to my reviewers.**

**Happy Independence Day for my fellow Americans, and a very happy Saturday to all of those international readers chancing upon this story!**

**Danielle**


	3. Chapter 3

"This is what you drive?"

Scarlett placed a hand on the roof of her car and turned her head towards him. "Yeah, do you have a problem with that?"

She watched as he placed a hand on one of the two silver racing stripes and began to walk forward, gliding his hand along the medium blue paint towards her door. "Not at all," Dean shook his head as he stopped in front of her. "Acapulco Blue suits you well."

"It'd suit me well if she was made anytime between 1965 and 1970," the blonde retorted, still leaning against the car. "But it's a '71."

The emerald-eyed hunter dropped his head as the left corner of his mouth turned upwards. "Bright Blue Metallic then," he mused and looked back up at her. "I should have known."

"Dean?" she addressed him, closing the distance between them.

"Yeah?"

"You know what you _should _do?"

He smirked at her. "What?"

"Get in the car," Scarlett told him with a smile of her own and then, her eyes still locked on his, pushed the driver's seat forward.

Dean laughed once and then looked at his brother, who shrugged in response. "Alright then," he replied and sidestepped her, ducking into the backseat of the '71 Mustang.

* * *

Dean climbed out of the car and looked up at the sign on the building. "A Wal-Mart? Really?"

"In case the hour long ride didn't clue you in, I don't exactly live in the middle of civilization," Scarlett shot back with an eye roll as she locked the doors.

"About that…" Sam interjected as they began to walk towards the entrance. "Why so far away?"

"You guys move around a lot," she shrugged. "I like to be a little more stationary."

The younger of the pair furrowed his eyebrows together in thought. "Wouldn't that make it easier for demons?"

She shook her head. "You'd think so, but I single-handedly built that house from the ground up. I took every precaution I could… iron found in the foundation, salt in the paint, under the carpet, mixed into the grout and the spackle, not to mention Devil's Traps embedded in the walls, the floorboards, and the ceilings."

Dean snorted in amusement as they walked through the open doors "That puts Bobby's panic room to shame."

"And I hope I never see it to compare," she replied, coming to a halt in front of the grocery half of the store. "You guys get what you need. Come find me when you're done."

* * *

"Something is different about her, Dean," Sam declared as they grabbed a few boxes of salt from the display at the end of the aisle to renew their non-existent supply.

"Yeah," Dean answered as though it were the most obvious thing on the planet. "She loves motorcycles, cars, and guns. Damn right she's different. She's the most perfect woman I've ever met."

"No, not in that way, Dean…"

"Oh you mean like 'suck the demon out of its host using your mind' different?"

The taller of the pair set his jaw. "Yeah."

"Sammy," Dean laughed and clapped his hand on his little brother's back. "Shut up and get some coffee while I track down some pie."

"Dude."

"Last time, you forgot the pie," Dean pointed out. "Now you've been downgraded to coffee duty."

His younger brother scowled at him and then walked over one more aisle, turning left.

The hunter rolled his eyes. "Bitch."

Sam pulled back slightly and poked his head out from behind the display of green tea. "Jerk."

* * *

As Sam began to look through the coffee at the end of the aisle, he noticed Scarlett was about thirty feet away from him in the otherwise-empty area, talking on her cell phone. Holding it to her ear, her hazel orbs roamed over the vast choices of filters, but when she decided on a brand, it was well out of her reach, despite her five foot, six inch frame.

Internally chuckling, Sam took a step towards her with the intention of reaching to the very back of the shelf and plucking out a box he could see from where he was standing.

But when he saw the box fly out of nowhere and land in her outstretched hand, Sam froze and scurried out of the aisle.

* * *

Sam needed to find his brother. Something was wrong, very wrong… he just didn't know what it was yet. So he looked for Dean in the one place he knew he'd find him: the bakery. "Dean!"

"Hey, Sammy," he greeted his brother brightly and then turned back towards the counter to receive the fresh pie in its white box. He winked appreciatively at the young woman behind the counter.

"Ew, dude," Sam's face crinkled in disgust. "She's jailbait."

"You think so?" he questioned with slight surprise.

"Can't be a day over sixteen."

"Aww, buzzkill," Dean lamented as they started to walk away from the counter. "Girls mature real fast these days, man."

"Maybe," the younger man admitted, then shook his head and put his right hand in the air. "But that's not the point…"

His brother agreed, "You're right. Where's my coffee?"

"Dean, forget the coffee. Something is definitely going on with Scarlett…"

Dean's eyes widened. "_Forget_ the coffee?"

"No, listen…"

He held up a hand to stop him. "No, _you_ listen, Sammy. First you forget the pie and I have to downgrade you to coffee detail. Now, you forget the coffee. Where does it end, Sammy? Where does it _END_?"

Sam took a deep breath and pulled him into the empty bread aisle. "Scarlett's telekinetic."

"Wait, what?" he raised his eyebrows in response. "You sure?"

"I saw a box fly off of the top shelf and into her hand."

"The top shelf, huh?" Dean looked at the white tile floor and then laughed as he looked back up. "Ever think she knocked it off, Sammy."

"I saw her do it, Dean."

"Saw who do what?" a feminine voice cut through their conversation.

As they swiveled their heads to look at whom the voice belonged to, they were met by the one person they didn't want to see. Sam's mouth hung open and Dean looked straight at Scarlett, standing beside them. "Oh… nothing really. Sammy swears the sixteen year old behind the pie… I mean, bakery counter… was hitting on me."

"She's nineteen, Sam. It's not illegal," Scarlett laughed. "Don't be such a prude."

"Whatever," he grumbled.

"All set?"

"Yeah," Dean answered, placing the pie gingerly into the child seat of the shopping cart. "Except we need coffee," he added, glaring at his brother. "And our cell phones are fried."

"I have plenty of coffee at home. Can I see the phones?" she asked and held out her hand. "The charger I bought you guys didn't work?"

Dean shook his head and handed her his phone first. She pulled out the battery and replaced it, but it still didn't work. Then she flipped open the cell and ran her thumb over the keypad. Suddenly, it sprang to life. Shocked, Sam handed her his phone and after repeating the same process, it too became functional.

After handing the phones back to their respective owners, the blonde shrugged. "Sometimes things just need a woman's touch."

As Scarlett turned and began to push the cart towards the checkout stands, Dean smacked his brother in the bicep. "I told you she was legal."

"You're fucking ridiculous," Sam ground his teeth together and followed Scarlett towards the front of the store, leaving Dean alone in the aisle.

"What?" Dean held out his hands, palms facing upward. "What'd I do?"

* * *

_Thirteen,_ Sam thought to himself as she turned onto the winding road that led to her house. _Thirteen green lights and zero red._

In their hour-long journey back from Wal-Mart, Sam began to notice that lights would go from red to green within five seconds of turning and Scarlett never even attempted to so much as take her foot off the gas pedal. He'd pulled out his cell phone to text his brother his observation and received an arched eyebrow from shotgun in the rearview mirror, as well as a text that read: _Shut your cake hole and don't ruin the ride._

But before he could textually retort that cell phones didn't count, a beeping noise sounded in the car.

Scarlett slowed the care to as quiet of a stop as she could, turned off the Mustang, and pulled her cell phone out of her pocket. "Shit."

Dean swiveled so that his entire body was turned towards her and Sam leaned over the front seat. "What is it?"

"I have EMF meters hidden in key points all over the house, since my house is really only demon-proof. I have them programmed to transmit the readings to my cell phone," she explained to them further. "It lets me see exactly which ones are going off and their numbers."

Sam glanced at the phone then back at her. "So which one is going off?"

She snapped the phone shut and looked up at the boys. "All of them."

Without warning, Scarlett ripped the key from the ignition and pushed open the car door. With a quick look between them, Sam and Dean followed suit and found her whipping open the trunk. They gazed into the deep trunk, chrome, silver, wood, and iron staring them right back in the face.

Suddenly, Scarlett reached into the trunk and began shoving weaponry at the brothers. "Dean, take the Colt 911. It doesn't have your ivory grips, but it has silver bullets and is fully loaded. Each pouch has fifty rounds, here's three. It should be enough."

Dean grabbed the gun and placed the three pouches into his pocket as Scarlett began to instruct his younger brother. "Sam, I have another 911 and a few Berettas. Which do you want?"

Sam scanned the trunk and reached in, pulling out a chromed 92F. "This one."

"Then you'll need these," she replied and pulled four more satchels out of the boot. "There are only forty in these, but I'm hoping that's enough."

"What about you?" Sam asked her, checking the chamber of his favorite gun.

In reply, Scarlett pulled a Beretta 93R out of her trunk. "This gun has never failed me once," she answered and flipped the chamber closed, popping a large pouch into her right jacket pocket. "And I don't plan on having it start now."

The green-eyed hunter gripped his gun and looked over at Scarlett. "Back door?"

"Back door," she repeated and shut the trunk as quietly as she could.

The brothers pursued her and found her kneeling in the grass.

"I'm going in first," the blonde informed them matter-of-factly, crouched just below window level with the other two members of their trio. "Sam, head for the basement, Dean, go upstairs. I'll take the first floor. You hear a shot fired, you head in the direction of the shooter, whoever it is."

They nodded and Sam opened the luckily well-oiled door, allowing Scarlett to head in first, followed by Dean, and then himself. Sam immediately hooked left and found the basement door wide open. He took a deep, but silent breath and began to creep down the stairs. As Dean and Scarlett came to the main staircase via the dining room, they slowed and locked eyes. With a nod, she encouraged him forward and watched as he disappeared down the hallway.

Scarlett took a step towards the kitchen beyond the wall and gripped her Beretta tightly in her right hand. Whatever this thing was, it was strong, stronger than anything that had ever made its way into her house before. She'd seen wayward ghosts wander into her home, but this reading was off the charts. She only hoped that it had come there looking for her and that the secret on the Winchesters wasn't out. If it had come for her, it could prevent the truth of their whereabouts from leaking. But if it came for Sam and Dean…

There wouldn't be much she could do to keep them safe in New York anymore.

Hearing a swishing noise around the corner that led to the kitchen, Scarlett forced her gun further ahead of her. She stopped dead at the corner, right arm raised, ready to shoot. Then, she rushed forward. As Scarlett broke away from the safety of her wall, she saw the back of a figure in a trench coat and fired a shot at him immediately.

But the figure didn't move, instead wheeled around towards her and looked at her with a serious face. "Hello, Scarlett."

* * *

Dean held his firearm directly in front of him, waiting for the slightest indication to shoot.

If he were to be honest, he'd acknowledge the fact that it did feel good to have a gun in his hand again, especially if it meant he could off a demon right now. But the odds of the intruder being a demon were less than zero. That desire would have to wait for another day.

After finding the first two rooms to be completely empty, he wondered where the entity was if not on his floor. Would Sam have to face it? Or would Scarlett be the one to happen upon the force?

Moments later, the question was answered as a shot was fired right below him and he heard the familiar clink of metal landing on a surface.

_Scarlett._

* * *

In the basement, Sam had opened every closet, checked behind every door, and found nothing. This meant that the thing causing the EMF meter to go ballistic was either with Dean or with Scarlett.

While he always held the fear of losing his brother again, Sam knew that Dean would be fine. His prior death wasn't brought on as a result of an attack and subsequent failure to defend himself, but was caused by his sacrifice in order to protect his brother.

As for Scarlett… there was something about the blonde hunter that made him fear for her too. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that over the last twenty-four hours, she had provided him with more comfort and understanding than anyone had been able to give him over the last twenty-six years of his life.

Sure, Dean had been the one to look after him growing up and demonstrate understanding in a way that only an older brother could. But he and Dean couldn't sit down and talk about their feelings. To Dean, that meant he'd have to acknowledge his own thoughts and fears and that was something he'd never do.

The left corner of his lips turned upward as he thought about how much Scarlett embodied Dean in female form.

And as a shot rang out above and he heard a loud clang of metal, Sam hoped that she could take of herself equally as well.

* * *

"Scarlett!" Dean's gruff voice yelled as he raced down the stairs, his Colt 911 held at chest height in front of him.

"Dean!" a voice called to him from behind him, one he immediately recognized as his brother's. "Where is she?"

The older of the two began to briskly walk down the corridor, his brother trailing him a few steps behind. "The kitchen."

"What are you doing here?" they heard her ask the entity on the other side of the wall. "You can't just come into my house and not give me warning."

"Scarlett!" Dean repeated again as his pace quickened.

"I'm fine!" she answered and then directed her words back at the thing in the room with her. "Cas, you set off ALL of my EMF's! What was I supposed to think?"

Finally, Sam and Dean reached the door. "Cas?"

The angel on the other side of the room looked away from the blonde with her hands on her hips to acknowledge the boys, "Sam, Dean."

"You're what set off the EMF's?" Sam asked, tilting his head to the side.

Castiel nodded once. "Yes. I never realized she had them in her house. This is first time I haven't appeared to her in my true form before."

"You're one of the special ones?" Dean raised his eyebrows at this notion, to which she nodded, and turned his attention back towards Castiel. "How did you survive?"

"Scarlett saved me, just like she saved the both of you," he answered straightforwardly.

"No, Castiel…" she plead with him.

"Hold on." Sam was confused. "How do you know Scarlett?"

"I know her father," he stated in his usual monotone.

"And how do you know her father?"

"Because I work for him."

"Wait." Sam's face scrunched up in confusion. "I thought you worked for God."

Castiel nodded. "I do."

"Wait," Dean shook his head and held up his hands. "You work for both her father _and_ God?"

While he had expected the angel to answer him, it was instead Scarlett who ran her hands over her face and sighed, "This is not how I wanted to tell you."

Sam was the one to put it all together first. "Scarlett… you're not… are you?"

She chewed on her bottom lip and then bobbed her head, "Yes. I'm God's daughter."

* * *

**A/N: I hope you guys liked the twist there at the end. I re-wrote this chapter four times. The whole "objects appearing out of nowhere" thing from last chapter can be explained by this. **

**Please let me know what you think about this story and the concept of Scarlett being God's child. I don't think that it's been done before, but I'd really like you guys to review and tell me your opinions, criticisms, etc.**

**Please read and review! The pace is going to pick up substantially after this and you're going to learn a lot more about Scarlett, her life, and her origins.**

**Remember, I love suggestions! R/R!**

**- Danielle**


	4. Chapter 4

They stood around in silence for over ten minutes, no one really knowing what to say.

Sam wondered if she felt as much of an outcast in her own life as he did in his. From what little she had said about her Father, he knew he wasn't around much. Well, at least in a non-omnipotent way. Since he'd gone off to Stanford, and even when he was younger, John hadn't exactly been around much either. No wonder she knew how he felt.

Dean didn't know what to think, other than life sure liked throwing him curveballs. And not the ones that broke at the last minute… the kind that were looping and so dirty, you didn't know where it started and where it would end up. Until he was pulled from the depths of Hell, he hadn't believed in angels or God, for that matter. And while Castiel's role in their lives forced the theologically-skeptical Dean Winchester to admit there might be a heaven, he still didn't believe in God; still didn't believe that there was something out there that would allow such bad things to happen to good people, for there to be such evil in the world.

But now the girl who had saved his life was telling him she was the child of such a being, the Creator. What reason did he have to believe her? Then again, there was an angel who had yet to lie to him, telling him it was true. So what reason didn't he have now?

"The child of God, huh?" Dean asked, rubbing his jaw with the palm of his hand. "That's a new one."

"Dean, I…"

"In time, you may seek your answers," the blue-eyed angel told him in an attempt to redirect the conversation toward more important matters. "But you need to pack up and leave."

This time, it was Scarlett know asked Castiel a question. "Now? Why?"

"They know they are here, Scarlett. All of them do," he explained, placing a hand on her shoulder. 'They will use whatever or whoever they can to get them, especially Dean. You must go, Scar."

"But, Cas…"

"I know you just wanted a day." He nodded in understanding. "But it can't happen, Scarlett. I can't ignore this order, not from Him."

She closed her eyes lightly and sighed, "I understand."

Sam watched as Castiel uncharacteristically placed a hand on her cheek in comfort. "You can do this, Scarlett."

"There's a lot riding on this, Castiel."

"I know," he agreed. "But He could have picked any angel for the job and instead, he picked you."

"Alright." She smiled half-heartedly as he dropped his hand and took a step back. "Send Father my love."

"I always do," he assured her and then disappeared.

Scarlett took a deep breath and then turned towards the brothers. "Okay, boys, take whatever you need to bring from your room upstairs. I'll pack the food in the car and load my weapons and gear from here into the car," she instructed them as the cabinets whipped open and food began flying off the shelves, which the boys found themselves staring at. "Uh… any time would be great."

Sam managed to close his mouth long enough to ask, "Where are we going?"

"South Dakota," the caramel blonde replied quickly as a cardboard box appeared out of nowhere and landed at her feet. "The safest place I can think of right now is Bobby's panic room."

A few cereal boxes landed in the box, neatly lined up, as Sam continued to question the woman. "And four of us are going to fit in Bobby's panic room?"

"It'll be fine," she assured him. "Now can the two of you please move your asses? I really don't feel like having to destroy my house with gunfire because of a demon invasion."

* * *

They didn't know how she had done it. Sure, they'd seen food and supplies Jean Grey themselves off of the shelves, but Scarlett had fit her entire weapons collections in the trunk and their food in one backseat foot well.

As the car cruised down the interstate, both Sam and Dean wondered what other powers she possessed, aside from being telekinetic.

"I need to get gas," the blonde announced, steering the car off the highway and into a fuel stop. As soon as the Mustang was parked in front of a pump, Scarlett hopped out of the car and began to fill her up. "How much farther do you think we have?" she asked Dean, glancing at him as he crawled out of the backseat.

"About eight hundred miles," he answered, stretching his back. "Why?"

"Sam," she called over the car to the younger Winchester. "Do me a favor, go into the quickie mart and ask the guy where the nearest motel is. I think we're about done for the night."

Sam nodded and began to walk around the car towards the small building. "Finally… I was about to actually swap spots with Dean and lay down in the backseat to sleep. I'll take care of the bill while I'm in there."

"Thanks, Sam." She smiled appreciatively at him.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Dean protested as his brother headed into the store. "It's your car. Why do _we_ have to pick up the tab?"

Scarlett rolled her eyes. "You don't even pay the bill anyway, Winchester."

Dean turned his nose upward. "It's the principle."

"How about… woman saves your life, you pay her gas," she retorted sarcastically. "How is that for a principle?"

"Fair enough." He nodded succinctly and leaned against the car. "Too tired to drive anymore?"

The young woman shrugged. "Not really, just sick of driving. I figured we'd settle in for the night, since I'm sure there are a thousand things that you and Sam want to ask me."

"You've noticed," he mused.

"It's not exactly hard to figure out, Dean," Scarlett chuckled lightly. "I kind of expected it."

"If you believed what I do… or did…" Dean rubbed his stubbly jaw line. "And you met someone like you, your head would want to explode too."

She agreed wholeheartedly. "I can't say that I know what you mean, but I understand. There's a lot of stuff I had to deal with growing up. Weirder stuff than you'd expect."

"Like what?" a voice interred ahead of them and they looked up to see Sam standing before them.

"Welcome to the conversation, Sammy."

"Sorry, _Dean_. I was busy figuring out where the hell we're going to stay tonight. Unless, you'd like to pull some directions out of your ass…"

"Just because I sold my soul for you once, doesn't mean I won't kill you…"

"Boys, knock if off," Scarlett sighed heavily and hit them both in the arm.

"Hey!" they protested in unison.

A smile cracked her lips. "It's going to take a while to get used to that. Where are we staying, Sam?"

He rubbed the spot she'd hit him lightly. "Pine Brook Lodge, it's about a mile up on the right."

Scarlett removed the nozzle from the car and hooked it back in its holster. "Pine Brook Lodge it is."

Dean screwed the cap back on and shut the panel. "You can't leave us hanging like that, you know."

"What are you talking about?"

"You were going to tell us something weird about your childhood," Sam answered this time, taking a few steps forward until he was next to shotgun. "Don't backpedal now."

The shorter brother climbed into the back as the female hunter waited. "Come on, tell us. You'll make us feel better about our wacked out childhood."

"Alright," she relented, sliding behind the wheel and shutting the door. "Alright. I'll tell you. Sam, shut the door." Sam did as he was told and Scarlett started the engine, pulling away from the gas station. "On the day I was born, a prophecy was made."

Sam's eyebrows shot towards the sky. "A prophecy?"

"Yeah." She bobbed her head. "And when I was sixteen, an angel told me that a prophet, on Earth, had written one about me. At first, I didn't believe him. But then again, what reason did I have not to?"

"What did it say?" Dean pressed her, leaning his forearms against the front seats.

The young woman sucked in her breath. "She who is endowed with the legacy of the Almighty shall be completed by the righteous man with the left hand of God's right hand."

Dean was dumbfounded. "What the hell does that mean?"

"Wait a second…" Sam's eyebrows furrowed together. "A prophet predicted your soulmate?"

"Seems a little mundane, doesn't it?"

The elder Winchester decided to add his two cents. "So this soulmate of yours… where is he? Is he dead?"

"Dean!"

"No, it's okay, Sam," the huntress assuaged him. "Dean, when you find him, let me know."

"So you haven't found him yet. Big deal."

"Despite your reputation, Winchester," the blonde sniped at him. "You clearly don't understand women."

"I've seen 'My Cousin Vinny,'" he retorted spitefully. "I know your biological clock or whatever is ticking."

Scarlett grew uncharacteristically quiet for a small stretch of road and then spoke softly. "I don't have one."

"Don't be ridiculous," Dean answered with a roll of his emerald orbs. "You don't look a day over thirty."

"I'd hope not, since I shouldn't look more than twenty-nine," she responded icily. "And like I said before, I don't _have_ one."

Sam cut off his brother before he could make a further ass of himself, catching her previous emphasis. "Shouldn't look?"

An uncomfortable quiet settled over the car as it pulled into the motel parking lot. Dean chose to speak first, turning to eye her as she threw the car into park. "How old _are_ you?"

The blonde took a deep breath, avoiding his gaze as she stared out the windshield. "Two hundred and seventy six."

"Son of a bitch."

* * *

"So will that be two rooms, a queen in each?"

Dean looked up at the desk attendant sporting horn-rimmed glasses. "Why does everyone think we're gay?"

"Actually," the man with the receding hairline interred. "I figured you and your lady would like some privacy."

Scarlett and Dean turned to look at each other, wide-eyed.

"His lady?" she jerked a thumb in his direction and nearly burst out laughing, which took a lot of restraint to repress. "No, definitely not. One room with twins will suffice. The boys can share a bed," she added, sliding her credit card across the table.

"Hey, Dean?" Sam spoke to his brother, two feet behind him.

"Yeah?"

"That's why everyone thinks we're gay."

* * *

The moon had appeared in the sky about twenty minutes ago, but Scarlett was making a point to close the blinds and curtains, effectively sealing the trio off from the rest of the world. While he was normally not the more pensive brother, Dean barely noticed as his brain swirled with various thoughts.

_Two hundred and seventy six._

She could have known his first American ancestors. She could have known the grandparents he never really did. Or even…

"Did you know my mother?"

Standing in front of the door, Scarlett latched it shut and slowly turned around. "I didn't know her, but I met her once. I was passing through Kansas to take care of some business and bumped into her in a store, with your father. They'd just been married at the time. Neither of you had been born yet." Her five foot seven frame leaned against the green-tinged door. "It wasn't until I met your father again, years later in Virginia, that I realized who she was. And who he was."

Sam felt his heart skip a beat. This woman had met his mother just once, yet she had a memory of her that she could recall. And that was more than he ever had. "What was she like then?"

The blonde let out a light chuckle. "Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant."

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Brilliant?"

"She had me pegged from the moment that she met me," Scarlett explained with a look of sheer wonderment. "I don't think that your mom knew everything, but I believe that she figured out enough to know I was different."

Dean felt his eyes start to water slightly as he tried to keep his emotions at bay. He loved his mother and missed her more than he could possibly convey. Even though he'd only had four short years with her, she was the most amazing woman he had ever known and as he found out more about her life as the years past, that fact was only further cemented in his mind.

"You said you were in Kansas on business," the younger of the brothers mentioned. "What business were you there on?"

"I have a, uh…" She reached up and rubbed a hand along her cheek. "Bit of a reputation for getting hunters out of trouble."

Dean finally managed to find his voice. "Trouble? What kind of trouble?"

"Legal trouble. I was… and still am, I suppose… a lawyer licensed in all fifty states and every American territory."

Sam began to grow even more interested in her past at this notion. "Where did you go to school?"

Scarlett let out a laugh that puzzled the boys. "Started at Mount Holyoke in 1837, but I basically made my way through each of the Seven Sisters before I could get accepted into a law program. All-women colleges sucked. The girls there were bitchy prisses."

"The Seven Sisters?" Dean raised an eyebrow. "That sounds like a posse of demons."

His younger brother rolled his eyes. "Dean, the Seven Sisters are liberal arts colleges that started out as women's colleges. Each college had a men-only, Ivy League counterpart. First one was Holyoke in Massachusetts with Dartmouth. Then came Vassar and Yale, Wellesley with Harvard and MIT, Smith and Yale, Radcliffe and Harvard, Bryn Mawr and Princeton, and then Barnard and Columbia."

"Oh, _those_ Seven Sisters."

Sam turned his attention back to Scarlett. "So where did you wind up?"

"When Columbia College moved to 49th and Madison in Manhattan, they became Columbia University and established a law school the year after. I finished up my last undergraduate program at Barnard and I became one of the first female law students there. Second to graduate."

"Why law?"

"Well," Scarlett clicked her tongue as she decided upon an answer. "I already know how everything in nature works, so I didn't need to be a biologist or physicist. And as for physics, well… I don't need to theorize about the Big Bang Theory, considering I know it never happened. Laws are always changing with the times. It's a direct result of human behavior. I find it fascinating."

"And what?" Dean added. "You knew everything else."

Scarlett shrugged. "Well, yeah."

"Yeah, I'm sure you know every single language ever created," he scoffed and backed up against the headboard. Her blonde head wheeled towards him as she raised an eyebrow. "Son of a bitch."

"You know," she laughed at him. "You seem to like that phrase an awful lot."

Dean stared up at her. "I bet you could teach it to me in thirty different languages."

The woman shrugged. "Probably more."

Once again, the elder Winchester brother was completely silent. The fact that her existence undermined everything he had previously believed in was a notion that was hard to swallow. One year ago, according to Dean Winchester, God didn't exist. There were no such things as angels. No prophets. No father, son, or Holy Ghost. There was no omnipotent being that could intervene at any moment, bestow a miracle upon some poor bastard who spent his day praying for one.

There was only evil and he knew that first hand. Soulless vipers who spread like the plague and robbed you of everyone you loved. He knew that too. There couldn't be a war between good and evil, Heaven and Hell, because only Hell existed. His father had been there and so had he. And his mother's spirit had been canceled out by a poltergeist.

But his eyes had been opened. For the first time, he couldn't deny the existence of heaven and angels. Nor could he deny the existence of God. Yet the biggest caveat to his belief in a good higher power was the past existence of a messiah: Jesus. Was Jesus real? Absolutely. Was he magical? Definitely not.

Well, he wasn't before this afternoon.

"So Jesus is your brother?" he asked, the question now fresh on his tongue.

She nodded. "Half-brother, yes."

Sam filled the momentary lapse with a question of his own. "And your mother was…"

"Not a virgin, nor was Mary."

"So where is she now?" Sam asked, slightly hopeful.

"She's been in heaven now for a little over two hundred and sixty years. She was a mortal."

Dean rose to his feet quickly and studied her. "And you're not?"

Scarlett shook her head. "You didn't really think that I'd survived three hundred and seventy six years on good luck, did you? As long as I'm on Earth, I'm immortal."

"Does anyone else know you're immortal?"

"No," she replied sadly. "The only other people who knew are long gone by now. I learned how dangerous it is to tell people my secret."

The second part of her explanation raised a red flag in Dean's head. He opened his mouth poised to speak, only to be cut off by Sam. "So, if you're over two hundred and seventy years old, you were here in colonial times with the Founding Fathers."

His scowl went unnoticed. _Way to geek out when I have something important to ask, Sammy._

Scarlett smiled at him, appreciative of his enthusiasm for the legal history of the United States. "I've met every founder and every man who signed our Constitution. And to be honest, no one really liked Hancock after he pulled that shit with the Declaration."

Dean watched with amusement Sam's eyes lit up like he was a five year old in a candy shop. _No wonder they get along so well._

And now that Sam had reached his five-year-old mode, the questions were about to come flying rapid fire. "So why don't you age?"

"I'm not really sure why," she answered honestly, bouncing her shoulders. "I turned twenty-nine and just stopped. Although, I'm glad I got to wear the fashions of the future with the same body. I much prefer jeans to petticoats."

"But Jesus aged," Sam continued.

Once again, she shrugged. "I guess my father saw what happened to him and realized his mistake."

Dean decided that it was his turn to contribute to the conversation once more. "Scarlett is not a very biblical name."

"Do I _strike you _as biblical?"

"And you're blonde," he pointed out, as well.

Scarlett allowed a small chuckle of amusement to slip past her lips. "My mother had an awful sense of humor. I think it was the whole water into wine thing. Mary… well, Mary is not as clever as my mother."

Dean folded his arms over his cream-colored thermal shirt. "Why would you say that?"

"She claimed to be a virgin, Dean," she deadpanned. "I mean, come _on_."

"Can you walk on water?" Sam picked up his line of questioning, to which she nodded.

His older brother reached into his duffle bag and pulled out a half-empty bottle of Poland Spring water then tossed it into her. "Water into wine?"

Scarlett caught the bottle and held it at the top, allowing the two to see all of the liquid remaining in the plastic. They watched as the substance changed from being completely clear to a light shade of pink to a merlot. "Now, I make a great wine…" she started as the liquid began to turn an entirely new shade, one closely resembling amber. "But I make an even meaner beer."

Dean's mouth dropped wide open and he pointed to his brother. "Sam…" He swung his index finger towards the lithe woman. "Marry her. _Now_."

Sam rolled his green eyes at his brother and then turned his attention back to their travel companion. "I just don't get it. Why did you save us? And Castiel? You risk complete exposure in doing this…"

"I know that Castiel is sometimes hard to understand," Scarlett sighed and pulled a chair away from the small table in the corner so that she could sit down to face the boys. "Angels are innately disconnected from emotions and rely solely on logic. But he tries, he really does. It's very hard to break away from what you are. You can't compare him to Anna. She's retained all of the human memories most angels have never been privy to… she's like the Spock of the angels," she added with the slightest hint of a smile. "With me, it's easier. I've been his charge from the day I was born and he knows me better than anyone else does. There's a connection between us that brings out protective emotions in him that he does not realize and would not understand. And while you probably wouldn't believe it, the only other person he has even shown any personal interest in is you, Dean."

Dean pressed a finger to his chest. "Me?"

"Yes, you," Scarlett affirmed. "He sent me to see Chuck as soon as he knew the final seal would undoubtedly be broken. I was to find out if Chuck had seen the future change. But when I got there, he had just sent you off and the archangel was coming. I stayed there, Dean. I stayed there to make sure the archangel would not come, would not touch Castiel because…"

"The one person an archangel would hold in higher regard than a prophet is the child of its creator," Sam finished for her. "So in just staying there, you drove it away?"

"He ordered me to go, to find the both of you since he knew where there was one, there would be the other. But I couldn't leave him there," she shook her head and paused to collect herself. "After almost three hundred years of protecting me, I could not leave him there to die. The bond between us isn't just one-sided. There was no doubt that the seal would break. My goal was to make sure you survived, Dean. I knew I could keep both you and Cas alive."

The hunter's jaw locked in anger. "And what about Sam? Was he just an added bonus?"

Her hazel eyes narrowed at him. "Don't you dare accuse me of being unfeeling. I didn't _have_ to save Sam. In fact, I risked both of our safeties in trying to get him out of there with us."

"I thought you were _immortal_."

"On Earth," she corrected him. "But the moment that seal was broken, that room became ground zero for Hell. I'm not immortal in Hell, Dean. I'm as human as you and your brother."

"So why do it, Scarlett?" Dean pressed her, clasping his hands together at the foot of the bed facing her.

Sam tried to stop his brother. "Dean… come on, man."

"No. I want to _know_, Sam. I don't want to be on a need to know basis anymore. I want answers when I ask for them. And I this is an answer that I want _now_."

The blonde swallowed hard. "He's your brother, Dean. I never had a sibling of any kind. I was an only child. The closest thing I had was my best friend and I lost him when I was fourteen. I'd never wish that type of pain on anyone," she informed him, a hint of sadness in her eyes. "You want to know why I saved risked my own life to save your brother's, Dean?"

"Yeah," he answered defiantly.

"I pulled Sam out of there with us because I didn't find Zachariah's logic that his death would be the catalyst to your victory an acceptable reason to let him die."

If Dean hadn't been sitting down, he was certain he would have flown backwards. Her words stung as though someone had just punched him in the stomach. She hadn't saved Sam to be a hero. She had saved Sam because she knew that he couldn't go on without him, no matter what the angels thought. When he thought about Scarlett Lucas, he associated her with the angels as he had previously associated Castiel: a pawn.

But he was wrong. She possessed both reason and emotion. Had she not, bending to the will of her Father, it was likely that Sam would not be sitting ten feet to his left.

Sam, on the other hand, knew just how to approach her… the exact way he would want to be spoken to: calm and with understanding. He rose slowly to his feet and took a few steps towards her chair, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder as he towered over her.

Scarlett took a deep breath to compose herself and glanced up from the floor towards Sam behind her and then Dean before her. "Look, guys. I'm not like Chuck. I'm not a prophet and of all of the things I can do, predicting the future isn't one of them. I don't know if we're going to win. I just know what will happen if we don't."

* * *

**A/N: I hope this clarifies some of the questions you might have had about Scarlett's life. Of course, I can't reveal EVERYTHING you probably want to know because that's part of the plot of the story! Haha. But I sincerely want to let you know that I tried to answer as much as I could because I appreciate your readership.**

**Speaking of which, it dawned on me the other day after re-reading chapter three, that I never wrote my reader replies for the previous chapter. I apologize and will do so for both chapter two and three now.**

**Nancy – **Thank you, darling! And thank you for the help with the Jean Grey reference! You are sheer brilliance!

**Angelofthenight – **I just can't wait to get ambient lighting in my OWN car.

**Deansqueen4 – **I think Sam agreed with you on that. She is a lot like Dean, but there are some slight differences.

**Winchestersarelove – **Does that mean you're officially a shipper?!? I'd be overjoyed if you were! I will do my best in the immediate future, but I can promise you that down the road, there will be many more!

**Mrs. Sam Winchester – **Hey, Abby. Really glad you like the story! Thanks for reading.

**Winchesters Are For Lovers – **I must admit, the shirtless Dean can be attributed to my own need to read that… even if I am re-reading it! Haha. We'll see about Dean on a motorcycle. She'd have to get home first.

**Maron771121 – **Yes, there is! I hope to finish up the story by the premiere because I don't want to have to change the whole direction of the plot because of what I know. It's so HARD! Kind of like Jensen's abs… but I digress. And yeah, I'll totally take Kripke's job. More shirtless Jensen and Jared for all!

**Jessica – **You will get your answers in the next chapter! Promise! Thanks for reading!

**OneAndOnlyHardyGirl – **Yay! I win. Can I have Jensen as my prize?!? Haha. Thank you very much for the loyalties both in my new venture and past ones in fanfiction.

**WinchesterAngel3389 – **I am SO glad you came to check this out, Marina! I'm very glad that you enjoyed this and that you like Scarlett. I think she's the more badass version of Jessica with some powers, but totally in her own way.

**Lati08 – **I understand your point that everyone is God's child. God isn't making babies in the tradition, but she is his daughter in the way that Jesus was his son. Thank you for the compliment on my writing, though. I appreciate your criticism, nonetheless.

**Hope you all enjoy this chapter! Feed the feedback monster!**

**- Danielle**


	5. Chapter 5

It was quiet in the motel room as time slowly crept past. But the lone woman in the small living quarters wasn't ready to call it a night just yet. She was busy putting the finishing touches on the following day's plan while relaxing on the dinky brown couch, facing the even dinkier color TV on the wall.

"Mind if I turn on the TV?" a voice asked quietly, knocking her out of her long-standing concentration.

Scarlett turned to peer over the back of the couch and found it unnecessary, as Sam Winchester was already towering over her. "Not really," she replied with a shrug. "It will provide me with a much needed distraction."

Sam nodded and took a quick path around the couch before sitting on it. When he went to turn on the television set, however, he found the remote to be completely devoid of batteries.

The blonde chewed on her lower lip for a moment and then whispered, "You want to see something cool?"

He agreed, "Sure."

"Alright…" she smiled shyly at him. "Watch this."

The younger Winchester did as he was told and looked on as her focus moved from him to the TV and she flicked her index finger upwards. All of a sudden, the picture flashed onto the screen. His head immediately whipped to his right. "You did that?"

Scarlett's smile morphed into a proud grin. "Yep, all me. And check this out," she added, holding up her and flicking her index and middle fingers at the same time.

The movie on the screen quickly changed to another and when she repeated the motion, it switched again. "You're like a human remote control!" Sam remarked with the astonishment of a five-year-old version of himself.

Scarlett couldn't help but laugh at his childishness. "Um… thank you?"

* * *

Over the course of the next three hours, Scarlett and Sam watched television, frequently breaking into casual conversation. She learned that he had desperately wanted to be a lawyer before his girlfriend had been killed by Azazel and that he hated sharing a bed with his brother because Dean was a total blanket hog. Meanwhile, he learned all about her own exploits as a lawyer and the intricacies of random state statutes as she pointed out falsities on courtroom dramas airing on cable.

"Please!" she had said as she fanned a hand at the television set. "In Massachusetts, he'd have at _least_ seventy-two hours to track down the witness."

Tidbits of information such as that one were coming quicker by the dozen and Sam was beginning to find her utterly fascinating, more so than when she'd just been the two-hundred seventy six year old child of God.

"Winchester, it's five in the morning and I have to drive tomorrow," she informed him with a yawn, stretching her arms in a v-shaped pose, unconsciously illustrating her point. "I promise, we'll watch more tomorrow."

"Okay, okay," he acquiesced and took the opportunity to crane his neck to stretch, as well. "I think that I'll sleep out here on the couch though."

She chuckled, "The blanket hog?"

He nodded sheepishly. "Yeah."

"Well, you can have my blanket if you want. I don't really need it. But, you're too big for the couch, Sammy…" Scarlett added with a laugh and then caught herself. "Oh, sorry… Sam."

"It's alright. You can call me Sammy if you want to. I don't mind," he informed her with a shrug. "And he'll just take the extra blanket anyway."

Scarlett's lips curled into a smile. Only his parents and brother were ever allowed to call him that, with the possibility of occasional use by Bobby. That much, Dean had told her. But he was okay with her, a woman who had been a complete stranger until about thirty-six hours ago, calling him by the nickname he reviled out of the mouths of anyone but four, now five, people.

"Tell you what, Sammy," the blonde began, trying the nickname on for size. "I'll take the couch. You can take the bed."

"Not a shot in hell," Sam replied with a shake of his head. "I'm fine with the couch, I've slept on much worse."

"As have I… I was a colonist, remember?" she pointed out to counter. "This is pointless. Why don't we just share the bed, Sam?"

He quickly began to stammer in reply, uncomfortable with her suggestion. "I-I don't want to make you do that. I… uh, I'll be fine."

"Really, Sam, it's okay," she assured him. "I don't hog the covers and I know you're not as handsy as your brother probably is."

"You sure…?"

Her hazel orbs rolled. "I said it's fine, Sam. I sleep in just what I'm wearing now: shorts and a tank. It's not like I'm just in my underwear or anything."

Sam reached up to rub the back of his neck. "I… uh… I sleep in my boxers."

"A pair of boxers is not like wearing a bra and a thong," she stated with a shrug as Sam turned a slight shade of crimson. She let her hair down from her ponytail, blonde locks cascading down her shoulders as she walked towards the bedroom. "You coming?"

He gulped nervously. "Yeah…"

Scarlett quietly made her way into the room, careful not to wake Dean. In fact, at the sight of him wrapped in the whole blanket, with only his head, right arm, and part of his right shoulder in view, she'd had to suppress a chuckle.

Sam, however, was not as stealthy in his footsteps, about two paces behind her. "Do you sleep on a specific side?"

"I'm not picky. You?"

"I like the right side."

"Good, I sleep on the left."

He eyed her. "But you said…"

"I lied," she responded with a wink and peeled back the covers on her side.

Scarlett was the first to get into bed and waited for Sam to follow suit. But he didn't.

"Sam?"

He looked bashfully down at his large feet. "Can you close your eyes?"

Scarlett was initially confused as his request and then it dawned on her: Sam was embarrassed to undress in front of her. Biting down on her lower lip to stop herself from laughing, she nodded and shut her eyes. Hastily, he kicked off his shoes and pulled off his shirt. Shortly thereafter, his belt and jeans joined them on the floor. After feeling him climb into bed beside her, Scarlett opened her eyes.

"Thanks," he whispered into the darkness of the room, interrupted by the dusty sky outside.

"You're welcome," she answered at an equally soft volume and lowered herself backwards onto a pillow. "Goodnight, Sam."

"Wait!" he twisted to his right to look over at her. "I told you that you could call me Sammy… isn't there something I can call you?"

Scarlett sighed heavily. "Only four people in my life have called me Scar… and only Castiel is left. It's not a name that I particularly enjoy being called. It sounds kind of evil if you ask me… and The Lion King didn't make it much better. But you can call me that. However, if you can come up with something else, something better, I'm open to suggestions."

"Scar," Sam repeated as he reclined, hands behind his head. "I kind of like it."

Despite the fact he wouldn't see, she rolled her eyes for her own benefit. "I'm glad one of us does. Now, it's getting pink outside of the window, which means the sun's coming up. That gives us six or so hours to sleep and if I have to be in a car with your brother for another twelve hours, I'm going to need it."

Sam rolled over on his side to face the other bed. "He's not that bad once you get to know him, Scar."

Her hazel eyes peered over his large body to catch another quick glance of Dean, still out cold. "Yeah," she said in a hushed voice and rolled over to face the wall. "I'm sure. Goodnight, Sam."

"Goodnight, Scarlett."

* * *

By the time Dean awoke the following day, the sunlight was already streaming through the curtains. He squinted as he turned over to check the clock on the nightstand.

_12:35 pm._

Blindly, Dean reached behind to initiate blunt contact with his brother, preferably in the general vicinity of his stomach. Instead, he was met by blankets and sheets.

Upon fully opening his emerald eyes, the first thing Dean Winchester realized was that his brother was not in bed.

The second was that he was laying in the other bed that had been designated as Scarlett's, his bare back towards him.

And after pulling himself to a seat position to scold Sam for letting her sleep on the couch, the last thing Dean discovered was a pair of slender bare legs one toned arm, and an abundance of slightly messy, honey-colored hair beside him, almost strategically hidden by the blanket.

"Son of a bitch," Dean muttered. "How did I sleep through _that_?"

He shook his head vehemently to rid his mind of the beginnings of some searing images. "Sammy," he called out to his brother in a quiet tone, as not to wake Scarlett. When he didn't respond, Dean's raspy voice rose. "Get up." Still, nothing. Dean scowled. "Sam, GET UP!"

Finally, Sam stirred and flipped towards his brother, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "What? What is it?"

Dean stared at him in disbelief. "You're joking me, right?"

"Sammy…" a sleepy voice of a feminine cadence called out to him, accompanied by the rustling noise of shifting linens. "You alright?"

"Oh, I'm sure after last night, _Sammy_ is just peachy," Dean retorted sarcastically.

"Dean," Sam said as he sat up. "What do you think happened last night?"

"Come on, Sammy… don't be cute with me." He squinted his eyes and shook his head. "I gave you the talk. Not Dad. Me. And _I_ am not stupid…"

"That's debatable," Scarlett mumbled, burying her head back into the pillow.

Sam glanced over at the blonde and glared at her. _Not helping._ "Dean, I couldn't sleep."

"Because _you_ are a blanket hog and _I_ didn't want him to sleep on the couch or the floor," she added with a growl.

"And then you did the horizontal tango as I slept five feet away!"

"Dean!"

"Oh, come _on_, Sam!" Dean rolled his eyes. "Your clothes are in a pile on the floor, all I can see of Scarlett is bare skin, and she has _blatant_ sex hair!"

Scarlett sat up and threw the covers off of her torso, displaying her black boyshorts and matching tank top. "Do I _look_ naked to you, Winchester?"

Dean held up his hands and let out an amused snort. "Hey, the kinky things that you do in the dark is _your_ business."

"Apparently not," she muttered beneath her breath, a scowl quickly manifesting on her lips as she rose from the bed and began to look for her clothes.

"So you admit it!" he smirked at her triumphantly. "All of you girls are the same and not _one_ of you can resist the Winchester charm. Way to go, Sammy!" He reached out and smacked his brother on the shoulder. "Although, I must admit… if you were really smart, you would have come to me for a little release. And considering our relationship, I should inform you that angry sex is my specialty."

Her eyes narrowed at him. "You're disgusting."

"I'm adorable," he countered with a sly grin, folding his hands behind his head and leaning against the headboard. "Not to mention irresistible to women everywhere, _including _you. I know Sam was just a substitute for me. It's okay. If you want to go for the real thing, I won't hold it against you."

"Let me tell you something, Dean Winchester…" Scarlett started, roughly grabbing her jeans off the chair by the door, her anger like venom building on her lips. "You think you know the way every single woman on the planet works just because you can pull tail any night you try. " Her hands grasped onto the denim of her jeans, sliding them up her slender legs. "You put on your old leather jacket and brood twice as much as you normally do... then flash a smirk at the first stacked woman that comes your way and she's yours for the night." She shook her head in utter disgust, sliding the zipper up to the button, and smoothed her shirt down over the waistband. "But beneath all of that cowhide and macho bullshit you spew, you're just a scared little boy who wishes he didn't know the truth about the things that go bump in that night. And you, little boy, don't know a _single_ thing about me," she added, a look of revulsion clouding her normally delicate features. Frustrated to the point of physically exploding, the woman slipped on a pair of still-laced sneakers over her socks and quickly made her way to the door, which vibrated within the wooden doorframe long after slamming.

Sam sighed and looked over at his brother. "That was really unnecessary, Dean."

"Her little bitch fit was pretty unnecessary too," Dean retorted, stretching his arms in bed. He didn't like her self-righteous attitude and the way she acted around his little brother, planting notions of hope for potential normalcy in his egg-shaped head. She might have powers. She might be the child of God. But it didn't mean she had the right to give Sam false hope. "I've got her pegged pretty good… and she doesn't like it."

Sam wondered silently if his brother could possibly think he was right. He figured he'd test the waters. "You were insulting."

"I was honest." Waters tested, Dean Winchester fails.

"You were being a dick," Sam countered in her defense.

Dean slid an arm under his pillow, retrieving his sawn-off shotgun a moment later. "Maybe." He began visually dissecting the weapon, checking to make sure nothing had been tampered with in his sleep, a sign of distrust that made Sam internally groan. "But why should I care?"

" Oh, I don't know, Dean…" his brother tilted his head to the side, as though he were in deep thought. "Maybe because she saved our lives?"

The older of the two flipped the handle of the gun closed. "So she says, but that girl says one thing when she does another."

"Let's just pretend for a moment that you're right," Sam began, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

Dean stopped messing with the shotgun and looked up at Sam. "We're not going to pretend to play house now, are we?"

Ignoring him, the younger brother continued. "Why would Cas lie to us, Dean? Aside from Bobby and each other, he's the only other person we have left to trust."

"So you agree… we shouldn't trust Scarlett?"

Sam shook his head. "No, I said _we_ for a reason. _I_ trust Scarlett. _You_ clearly don't."

Dean's gaze hardened. _Like you trusted Ruby and Meg… and I didn't?_

As if sensing Dean's mental process, he added, "I trust her because I trust Cas…" he trailed off, reluctant to say what he knew was coming next. "And she gets me, Dean."

The green-eyed hunter got to his feet and placed the gun down on the nightstand. "Does she, Sammy? Does she really get you? Or is she feeding off your insecurities?"

Sam shook his head. "No. Last night…"

"I get it, Sam." Dean rolled his eyes and pulled his duffel bag from the floor to the top of the bed. "You didn't have sex. Move on, already." He turned away from Sam and began rummaging through the khaki bag.

Sam glazed over his brother's remarks. "We sat down and just hung out last night. I don't get to do that anymore, Dean. I don't get to just sit down, relax, and hang out with a friend."

Dean's hands froze inside the duffel and slowly were removed. "A friend? You know this girl for forty-eight hours and she's already a friend?"

"She's the first real friend I've had since I left Stanford," he countered and stood up to get back into his jeans.

"First?" he scowled at him. "What are you talking about _first_? You have me and Bobby… Cas… Jo, Ellen…"

Sam notched his belt buckle. "Brother, second father… angel… hunter and hunter's mom."

"So what?" Dean's head tilted to the side as his jaw locked and his nostrils flared, slightly offended by his words. "We don't _count_?"

He quickly backpedaled, realizing the implications of his response. "I'm just saying that she's our age, Dean." Dean's eyebrow arched and Sam caught himself. "She's been through what we've been through."

"I doubt it," he said, turning back to his bag.

"She's doing her best," Sam answered, throwing his hands up in the air as a sign of exasperation. "I don't know what else you want her to do."

His face flushing crimson, Dean shoved the duffel bag away from him and rose to meet his brother. "You know what I want her to do? I want her to stop pretending that she knows us, that she knows _me_. I want her to go back to whatever cloud in the sky she came from and I want her to stop putting fantasies of being normal in your head." The veins in his neck pulsated as he struggled to keep his anger in check and finish his thoughts on one breath's air supply. "That's what I want her to do."

Sam stood there, frozen in his boots as he studied the eyes of his brother, dark with anger and frustration. His face still, he reached out with his left arm and grasped onto his black leather wallet, shoving it roughly into the back pocket of his jeans. "Scarlett was right, Dean…" he shook his head in disappointment and headed for the same door she had walked out of, not even ten minutes earlier. "You don't know her at all."

* * *

**A/N: Sorry for taking so long. I ran a little dry in my writer's well and work took over my life. As I was writing this, I realized that Scarlett was becoming a little bit of a… gasp! Mary-Sue. And that got me thinking that my plans for this chapter and the next few had to be revised. So now they are. And Scarlett's going to be a little more complex.**

**Thanks to my loyal readers (Feel like I'm doing a CW Connect interview here):**

**Nehasupnfan – **Thank you! I'm glad that you find the story interesting. I was afraid I was going to piss quite a few people off in writing on this type of topic, but I figured WTF. Go for it. Reading reviews like yours make me realize I did the right thing.

**Maron771121 – **Thank you! I hope you enjoyed this one. I needed to shake things up a little.

**Nancy – **Ah, Nancy. You are always the best. Hence… first shotgun in my Mustang. You can be the Sam to my Dean. You're just… going to have to shut your cakehole because driver DOES pick the music after all. (Severely hoping you get that reference.)

**Mrs. Sam Winchester – **Haha. I'm glad you liked that little drabble. It originally wasn't in the chapter, but I was re-watching some episodes and it came to me. Had to pop it in there. Thanks, Abby.

**Angelofthenight – **It's okay. I'm glad you got around to reading. Personally, I think not only does Sam blame himself for a lot of things, I think that he resents himself for not being able to remember his mother. Even though, clearly, the fact that Azazel killed her was not his fault. Best of luck in the new school year. Review when you can.

**Deansqueen4 – **Aww, thank you. I appreciate that you came back and reviewed. You were the late addition to my thank you's, five minutes before I was about to post! Glad you're enjoying the Sam and Scarlett interaction… I hope this chapter was enjoyable for you too.

**That's all, everyone. Oh… do me a favor…**

**Press this little button… here.**

**l**

**l**

**V**


	6. Chapter 6

After his outburst seven hours before, Scarlett was still shifting through all of the available ways to kill Dean Winchester in her head. While she had initially thought she had punished _him _by having Sam sit shotgun yet again, relegating him to the more cramped backseat, it turned out that the only person she had succeeded in torturing was herself.

Fed up, she pulled over on the side of the highway, a cloud of dirt scattering away from her tires. "If you don't stop humming that damn song," she seethed, turning towards him in the backseat, "I'm going to fucking kill you."

"Now, now," Dean chided her with an antagonistic click of his tongue. "I don't think Daddy would particularly like that."

Her hazel eyes narrowed. "I thought you didn't believe in Him."

Dean folded his arms against his leather-clad chest and leaned back against the seat. "I'm still undecided."

Scarlett quickly grew incensed, a crimson anger flushing her cheeks. "You make me do tricks like a magician at a motel… and you still can't make up your mind?" she asked him and then turned up her nose with a snort. "Typical Dean Winchester."

"What's that supposed to…" Dean began to snipe back, but was cut off by a loud thud against the roof of her car.

Instantly, they all turned to look at each other.

"What the hell was that?" Dean asked, his eyes moving to the roof as another pound was heard against the metal.

Sam was equally as dumbfounded. "I have no idea."

Scarlett reached out and lightly rapped the back of her hand on his bicep. "Sam…"

The younger hunter's green eyes retreated from the ceiling and settled on the woman beside him. "What?"

She extended an unpainted fingernail towards the rear windshield and only managed to speak one word, "Look."

Sam's eyes widened and Dean turned around. "Holy shit."

Black smoke was curling around the car and more and more comet-like trails were headed towards the vehicle.

"Shut the car off," Dean ordered the blonde. "They can get in through the air vents if it's on."

Scarlett did as she was instructed and turned back around. "Now what do we do?"

"I don't know," he admitted with a shrug and then defaulted to his brother. "Sam?"

"I've got nothing," Sam answered with the repeated behavior of the older Winchester, but soon found himself squinting at an incoming shape in the distance. "Wait a second… is that a truck?"

Scarlett peered out the glass and winced. "No, it's worse."

"What is it?" he asked her, struggling to get a good view. "I can't tell."

Her head reared to catch his gaze. "An armored bus… headed to the Illinois State Penitentiary."

Dean threw his hands in the air. "Fan-_freaking­_-tastic!"

The bus was gaining ground on the car at rapid speed and the passengers of the Mustang were virtually helpless. They watched as the vehicle slowed to a halt and the doors opened, a man who was clearly the driver soon appearing at the bottom of the stairs. The balding man's lips contorted into a sinister smile as he shifted his jet black eyes to the Mustang.

The smoke began to rush through the open door, screams of pain and anguish emanating from the bus and penetrating the blue car's windows.

Scarlett's breath came out in a soft gasp of fear. "He's creating a mini-army."

"We can't just wait here like sitting ducks," Dean decided, just as the screaming ceased. The silence was downright eerie. Almost ominous.

And then the march started.

By the time all of the possessed prisoners and guards walked down the stairs and lined up, there were forty demons present, at the very least.

"Sam, listen to me," Scarlett started, her eyes never leaving the demonic bus. "I will hold them off. I have a pistol and a box of bullets in the glove compartment, but everything else is in the boot. Cover your brother."

"What are you going to do?" Dean questioned her warily, leaning forward towards the first row of seats.

The blonde reached over with her right hand and unlocked her door. "Give them a crack at something they want more than you."

"I'm the only one who can defeat the Devil. What could they possibly want more than me?" His eyebrows furrowed as he tried to comprehend her train of thought, not wanting to admit to her that she was occasionally hard to figure out.

Scarlett took a deep breath and opened her door. "God's largest weak spot: me."

The door slammed shut and locked without her even touching it, leaving Sam and Dean to fend for themselves.

"Oh, Scarlett…" the driver grinned sadistically at her as she walked away from the car and stopped twenty feet in front of him. "It's been what? A hundred years, at the _very_ least?"

"One hundred and twenty-five, Victor."

"Oh, who is counting, my dear?" He asked mockingly and noticed anger flash through her eyes. "Oops. Well, I guess_ you_ are," the demon continued to antagonize her and stepped forward.

"Don't move another inch," she ordered him through gritted teeth.

If it were possible, she could have sworn that Victor's smirk had grown larger. "If I want the Winchester boy, I'm going to get him. Don't you remember, Scarlett? I _always_ get what I want."

* * *

Sam and Dean watched the conversation unfold between the demon and the divine woman, inaudible words passing from one to the other. Her fists balled at her sides in anger, on the verge of being pure white. It was clear that she was holding back, stalling in order to give them some time.

"Break for it?" Sam asked, his eyes still fixated on the showdown between his new friend and the possessed driver.

The older of the two rubbed his stubbly jaw. "I don't think so, Sam…"

Sam popped open the glove box and retrieved both the rock salt rounds and the gun. "Dean what are you _talking _about? We need to go _now_!"

"Sammy…" He put a hand on the backrest. "I'm telling you. I feel it in my gut. We need to wait."

"For what, Dean?" his brother asked in exasperation and then added sarcastically, "An angel?"

His emerald orbs watched intently as Victor took a step forward and Scarlett pulled her right fist in front of her. When it exploded open, all forty-something demons went flying. "That."

The doors facing away from the bus flew open as the brothers rushed out of the car, Sam keeping a careful eye on Dean. They crouched down, scurrying around the car below window level.

Dean's hand rested on the trunk. "Shit, it's locked. Keys are in the car…" he trailed off and tried to pry open the door, to no avail. "Son of a bitch!"

Suddenly, the trunk popped open with a satisfying click and Sam nodded in the direction of the car's rear, encouraging his brother onward. "I've got your back. Go."

Dean looked at him puzzled. "You?"

He shook his head, shaggy hair moving with it. "No, her. Now GO."

His brother nodded and held out a fist. Dean's index finger rose, followed by his middle and then the ring finger, causing both to jump to their feet.

Dean reached the boot in a matter of moments and opened the hatch below the surface, gaining access to the cache of weapons beneath. As the oldest Winchester sifted through the guns, his younger brother was busy making sure he didn't get killed.

It wasn't hard for Dean to have enough faith in Sam to know he would protect him, but it didn't mean he was unaware of what was going on around him. And as Sam fired the first bullet of the afternoon, Dean became more acutely cognizant of his surroundings… and the potentially-loaded guns that were mysteriously flying out of the trunk.

He looked back at his brother, whose worried glance told him all he needed to know. Whatever juice he had left in his system was useless. There were too many of them pulling at once.

"Scarlett!" Dean shouted over the sound of firing guns, trying to capture her attention as he ducked back behind the hidden side of the car once more.

The blonde sent a demon flying into the bus, temporarily knocking him unconscious long enough to catch a glimpse of the problem. She knew what they'd have to do, but she was too far away to do anything but yell. Unfortunately, that would give them away.

"Grab what you can!" she bellowed to them. It was the only thing she could say. It wasn't as though the demons wouldn't realize they'd try it. That maneuver would be the obvious one.

Her attention could not be diverted from the hellish army to the Winchester brothers. Even a split second shift in her focus could get them both killed. Instead, Scarlett began to back up as she telekinetically tossed the demons around.

It wasn't hard to do. They were only a few hundred years old and not much older than she was, not to mention far less powerful. More importantly, they were many millennia younger than Victor, who was the only one that truly worried her. Their encounters in the past had left her more battered than they had left him.

She focused on the evil beings, keeping a small part of her mind focused on making contact with the Mustang. A few minutes later, her foot connected with the front tire and her attention split between the ensuing battle and the now-hidden Winchesters. "Sam, I can't do this alone…"

The shaggy-haired brother popped up from behind the trunk long enough to fire off another bullet that struck a demon straight in the chest. "Scarlett, you can't ask me to do that."

Scarlett kept her eyes ahead of her as she focused on the spiky-haired bottle blonde in the front and threw him on top of the bus with a stomach-turning thud, while diverting a bullet away from herself. "Since we don't have a Devil's Trap to hold them, we can't recite anything. We're going to have to exorcise each one of them individually."

Sam leaned his head back against the metal behind him and grit his teeth together, as though he was in agony. "I can't do it, Scarlett. I don't have enough left in me."

"Yes you do, Sam," she assured him, sending three bullets back towards the bus, shattering three windows. "They're barely older than I am. You can do it, Sam. I know you can."

"I can't do it…" he trailed off, completely forgetting about his task of manning his post. "I _won't_ do it."

"Sam, listen to me," Scarlett plead with him, a sense of urgency and despair in her voice for the first time as a stray round clinked off her hubcap. "You're not going to make it out of here alive… _Dean_ won't make it out of here alive… unless we do this. It's the only way out. You know I'd never ask you this unless it was absolutely necessary."

The twenty-six year old shut his eyes tightly and pressed his lips together, tilting his head to the side. After they opened again, he looked over at his brother, whose approval he perpetually sought and desperately needed at this moment. When Dean nodded, Sam took a deep breath. "Okay. I'll do it."

The blonde hunter nodded once, if for no other reason than to reassure herself it could be done. "Sam, when I tell you, you're going to come around and stand next to me at the front of the car," she told him through her teeth, tightly pressed together in order to prevent her lips from betraying her. "We're just going to start taking them out, one by one. Everyone, but the driver. I'll deal with him…" she stopped her directions in order to prevent a bullet from sailing beneath the car into one of the brothers. "Dean, you're going to take Sam's position at the trunk. Cover your brother, not me. What do you have back there with you?"

Dean looked down at his feet where a small stack of guns and a few satchels of bullets lay, surveying his current arsenal. "A Taurus 9mm, a .357, a .22 Smith & Wesson, and a 199 A1. I didn't get to grab the bullets for the .357 in time."

"I think you'll have enough…" she decided and flipped a demon against one of the bus's mirrors, resulting in a nauseating cracking noise that had to be the host's spine. She didn't falter for a moment, previously deciding that these death row inmates were too dangerous to be spared, demonic or not. "Now, Sam!"

On cue, Sam rushed around the hood of the car with a few quick strides and joined Scarlett at the front as Dean's upper body appeared above the trunk. A few of the demons hesitated at the sight of Sam, hand raised in the air, ready to strike.

And then he did, just as Scarlett forcibly extracted the first demon from its host.

* * *

They picked off the demons one by one, smoke spewing from the mouths of the possessed prisoners like pea soup from the teenaged Linda Blair as a bullet was occasionally fired by Dean. It was a welcome release for Sam Winchester, who felt with every demon he forced from its host as part of his semi-divine mission from Scarlett Lucas, he was slowly washing away the sins he had committed.

Dean had not taken his eyes off of his brother for a single moment. What he was currently doing had disgusted him in the past, aligning himself with the sinister likes of Azazel and Alistair. But as he watched Sam fight side by side with Scarlett, who embodied good in its purest, human form, Dean realized that Sam's ability didn't have to be evil. It could be used to benefit the righteous.

Forty-five demons soon whittled down to thirty-five. Thirty-five became twenty. Twenty became ten, ten to five. And then they could not see a single demon left standing, only battered and bruised bodies left limp on the asphalt.

Green and hazel eyes scanned the scene in front of them, searching for signs of life. When they found none, the owner of the hazel eyes declared it was safe for Dean to come out from behind the car.

He made his way around the back of the car to stand beside the trunk, Scarlett and Sam stepping to their left to meet him. "I didn't know you could do that, Scarlett," Dean admitted, the slight shock of their previous situation beginning to set in.

"I know that in the past, you've only experienced that in association with evil," she replied, nodding in understanding as she glanced between the brothers. "But it can be done with good intentions, Dean," the blonde added, deliberately slipping the notion into his head to make a case for Sam.

He mentally chewed the thought over for a minute as Scarlett walked behind Dean, turned left to get around Sam, and made her way in front of them both in order to get to the trunk. She popped open the hatch to enable them to dump the weapons back inside the boot.

Coming to a decision on the matter, Dean opened his mouth to speak to the girl now standing directly in front of him. But just as he readied to form the words on his lips, the crack of a fired gun was heard, fifty feet straight behind him.

There was only one person who could possibly act fast enough to change its course. Sam was still new to telekinesis and no longer had the energy required to react that quickly to a discharged round after his bout with the demons.

With the hollow-pointed bullet hurtling towards the man before her, she became conscious of the fact that she could not see the path of the bullet or the remnants of the flash, meaning it was aimed for Dean's spine and blocked by his torso.

As the ammunition to end his life closed in on Dean Winchester, Scarlett realized that without being able to visually focus on the object, there was only one option left. Moving at an impossibly fast speed, she flung Sam and Dean behind the safety of the car, leaving just enough time for the bullet to penetrate her abdomen, the sickening tear of human flesh cutting through the air.

* * *

Sam skid across the dusty ground on the side of the road, kicking up pebbles into the air as he finally came to a stop. Lying face down, he lifted his head up and studied his palms, noticing the stinging was coming from numerous scrapes on his skin. With similar pain extending to his forearms, knees, and forehead, he safely assumed that they'd met a similar fate. Nonetheless, he was confused and slightly disoriented, but it was clear that he was in the safety of the Mustang's shadow once more, a place that was becoming more and more familiar to him and Dean.

At the thought of his brother, Sam's head shot to his right, where he heard someone grunting in discomfort. Sure enough, Dean found his brother in a similar position beside him and wondered how they'd both gotten there. Last he could remember, a gun had fired as he and Dean stood next to the car, talking to Scarlett…

Jolted back to a crystal clear reality, Sam's eyes surveyed the area around him and once level with the underbelly of the car, could see a bloodied hand lying limply beyond the rear right tire. "SCARLETT!" he yelled as both the memories of the moments that had previously escaped him and the emotional carnage they had likely resulted in flooded through his brain.

The fingers twitched and then slowly curled, demonstrating a sign of life Sam had been desperately clinging to the hope of. Scarlett's immortality had grown less certain in his eyes as they faced down Hell and its demons, just as everything else in his life had. "Sam?" a voice croaked out, clearly marred by anguish.

"Scarlett!" he called to her, using his forearms to crawl beneath the car to get to her, no matter how much it was aggravating the scrapes on his arms.

But Sam could not prepare himself for the sight that eventually lay before him. The once radiant blonde had diminished to a pale shell of her former self, color rapidly draining from her cheeks, and the flawless, creamy skin he recalled peeking out from beneath her tank top as they awoke the previous morning was shredded to pieces. A gaping hole took its place and bore into her flesh, leaving a river of blood pouring from her wounds. It took everything within him not to rush out from underneath the car to help her, as it would leave him exposed in the open.

He fought with his subconscious, knowing that getting himself killed by whatever demon was left would not help Scarlett and certainly would not help his brother. There had to be another way to get to her without risking both of their lives. In fact, he knew there was a way, but it was a dangerous one and he was trying to avoid it, knowing the damage it could cause to her body. Soon though, he decided that it was the only way, even if he risked her further harm, because if he left her there, there was a strong chance she'd die anyway.

Mustering up all of the strength he could, Sam latched onto her right wrist and began to pull her underneath the car with him. With each tug on her body, he slid himself backwards to avoid any physical contact that could preclude her body's already fragile stability. "Dean," he called to his brother, who was still trying to make sense of what had just happened from his place on the ground. "Help me."

Dean looked up at Sam with confused and cloudy eyes, but the moment he laid eyes on Sam's hand, firmly grasped around the bloody wrist of Scarlett Lucas, his green orbs cleared up as the realization of what had taken place hit him. Without giving it a second thought, Dean reached in and grabbed a hold of her other arm. With it firmly grasped between both of his hands, the brothers pulled her broken body from underneath the car.

Now clear from any obstructions, Sam immediately scrambled to her side and pulled his tee-shirt over his head, pressing it against her abdomen to try and limit the bleeding. "Scarlett… stay with me," he plead with her softly, hovering over her. "Don't leave me."

With glassy hazel eyes she looked up at him, the slightest hint of a reassuring smile on her lips, despite the fact that it failed to encourage him. "I- I won't…" she answered him, her voice shaky as she paused to breathe heavily. "But Sam… you have to… do something… for me."

"Anything," he replied without hesitation, his face full of concern.

"Dean…" she called weakly to his brother, who carefully crawled around the younger man to the other side of the woman. "Dean… take… over… for Sam. It…" she let out a guttural moan. "It helps… the pain."

Sam looked up from her and across her body at Dean, who nodded and placed his hands over his brother's, allowing him to quickly slide them out for a smooth transition. "What do you want me to do, Scarlett?" he asked her quietly.

"You have… to do it again," she told him with ragged breaths. "I can't… send him back… too… weak."

"I don't have anything left, Scarlett," he said sadly and looked away from her, disgusted with himself.

"Hey… hey…" She reached up a shaky hand and pressed it lightly against his cheek. "I… believe… in you. You… just need… a little help."

"I need demon blood," he responded, still avoiding her gaze. "And I won't do it. I won't drink from those prisoners, Scarlett."

Her breath grew more staggered and Dean struggled to control the bleeding with the blood-soaked shirt. Keeping one hand firmly pressed to her stomach, Dean pulled his arm out of one sleeve and managed to maneuver it over his head and down his other arm, where it joined his brother's shirt. "I… would never… ask you to. Drink… from me… instead."

Sam's dark green eyes shot back towards her. "You're dying! I'm not going to drink from you. I'll kill you."

"I'm… not… dying. It… will work."

Dean craned his neck backward to get a better view of the damage. "Scarlett, the skin on your back and sides is turning purple. The bullet hit your kidney and spleen… probably got your pancreas and liver too."

"It doesn't… matter," she struggled to say, beginning to gasp for air. "You… can… Sam."

"No!" he refused again. "I'm not going to drink from your stomach. You're not a demon, Scarlett… and you can't help me. Even if you could, I wouldn't go down that road again."

Scarlett tried to gather all of the strength left in her body. "I know… it… will work. You… are not… evil. You can… absolve… yourself. This… is… your… start…" Suddenly, the drained blonde began to choke and gurgle, crimson streams of blood sputtering from her lips as she fought to keep it down long enough to speak to him one last time. "For me. Please… Sammy."

Her watery hazel eyes silently plead with him, begging him to help her. She'd taken a bullet to save his brother. He couldn't deny her this.

Sam nodded and moved slowly down her body towards where Dean was still applying pressure. "Sam, wait," his brother halted him and he looked up. Dean tilted his head back towards her own. "Her mouth."

The younger brother's eyes roamed back to her face, where it was obvious she was losing her battle with the bullet, the blood dribbling down her face evidence of that.

His gangly body crawled back up toward where her head rested on the ground and he leaned in slowly, careful not to brush against any other part of her body. Certain he would not block her from breathing through her nose, Sam lowered his head towards her and their lips met, the blood instantly transferring from Scarlett's mouth into his own.

Within five seconds, Sam felt the familiar jolt of energy rush through his veins, like electricity through a circuit, at a strength he had not felt since he'd drank from the doctor that had doubled as Lilith's servant. Instantly, he pulled away from her, whatever questions that lingered pushed aside in the interim.

Wiping the blood from his lips with the back of his hand, Sam stood up, now a clear target, and walked into the open beyond the Mustang.

"Samuel Winchester," a voice reminiscent of a snake hissed at him, invoking memories of Alistair. "What a pleasure it is to finally meet you in the flesh… well, in someone's, anyway."

"What did you do to her?" he asked him, jaw clenched in fury and a hard stare adorning his normally boyish features.

The balding man fanned a hand at the young man. "Oh, she'll be fine. No need to cry over spilt human blood."

Sam rolled his head around on his shoulders and extended a hand in the air. "It wasn't all spilled," he informed the demon with a smirk and began to squeeze his fingers together.

He gasped, the air rushing from his human lungs like helium from a leaking balloon: excruciatingly slow. But he deserved this kind of death, Sam was sure of it. Not only for what he'd done to Scarlett minutes ago, but what he'd probably done to her in the past. There had to be a reason she'd asked him to leave the driver for her. It couldn't have just been arbitrary.

A minute of torture went by. Then another. And another. Before he knew it, five minutes had passed, although it seemed like much less time. Finally, Sam clenched his hand tighter, moving closer and closer to a fist as the demon's insides began to radiate yellow. Finally, the fingers closed unto each other, his rough fingernails digging into his palm.

With a final burst of light, the body fell to the floor and was still at long last.

* * *

**A/N: A very high-drama chapter! I told you all that it'd be getting crazy! I personally feel it is, hands down, the best thing I have ever written. I sincerely hope that you all enjoy it. I stayed up until seven in the morning yesterday writing it after I'd gotten home from the Mets game at one a.m.**

**Ten reviews for the last chapter! I am so happy, you have no idea. I'm aiming for fifteen this chapter. But I won't throw a fit if I get ten again.**

**Anyways, shout-outs!**

**Winchesters Are For Lovers – **What an analysis! I'm glad that you think she's becoming more dynamic of a character. I think this chapter is a HUGE turning point for her.

**WinchesterAngel3389 – **I hope you liked your little exclusive! And yeah, Sam doesn't make the best decisions, which is why he was so reluctant to team up with Scarlett against the demons in this chapter in the first place, let alone take on Victor.

**Peridot809 – **Oh, thanks so much! Welcome to the review party, please stick around a while! I'm glad this has become one of your favorites. I aim to please!

**Klandgraf2007 – **Hopefully, this was soon enough for you. Thanks again!

**Midnight LeAnn – **Awww, thanks! You're making me blush!

**Nehasupnfan – **I think you can safely climb that limb!

**Chaosbb – **Oh, Charizard. How I love your reviews. I hope this lives up to your expectations.

**Deansqueen4 – **I'm not going to lie, I kind of drew from that scene in writing her sound off. Thanks for the compliment.

**Mrs. Sam Winchester – **Yeah, she tends to kick his ass. But he needs it!

**Angelofthenight – **I think my biggest struggle isn't visualizing them in _my_ head, it's writing their words and actions so that _you all_ can see him in _your _heads. Thanks!

**Winchestersarelove – **Oh, it's no big deal. Welcome back to the party!

**Nancy – **Hehe. Every single time I read it over I thought "Oh, it'd fit there. You have to put it in. You HAVE to." So I did! You're going to definitely be sitting shotgun in September. But we tend to share musical tastes, so it doesn't matter much.

**So that's it for the review replies. But since this seemed to work SO well last time…**

**Press this little button… here.**

**l**

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**V**


	7. Chapter 7

Silence. _Noun._ Absence of any sound or noise; stillness. _Verb_. To put or bring to quiet; still. _Interjection._ To command quiet.

Silence. Sam knew it was the only thing surrounding him. Still, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was gnawing at him in the back of his brain, something that had caused him to create the silence in his mind.

Then he heard it… an anguished scream of words jumbled by despair that confirmed his initial fault.

It was then followed by another voice, clear as a bell and even more familiar. "Sam!"

His gaze shifted with his body as turned away from the lifeless corpse at his boots, his brother's bellow hanging in the air.

And it was in that exact moment, as the body still partially hidden by the Mustang writhed in the dusty ground, Sam recognized the voice that had permeated the adrenaline-driven boundaries in his head. "Scarlett."

With purpose, Sam ran over to the side of the road and dropped to her knees beside her.

Still pressing the bloody fabric to her abdomen, Dean reached up and used his bare forearm to wipe the sweat that hadn't dripped onto his black tee-shirt off his forehead. "Come on, Scarlett… it's alright. You're going to be okay."

"No!" she shrieked back in response, her voice slightly hoarse from her calls to Sam going unanswered. "He wasn't supposed to…" she choked out, her nails clawing at the dirt as her head turned, hazel eyes locking with Sam's green ones. "I was supposed to kill him, not you," she lamented, her words as sharp as razor blades.

Instantly, Sam froze. He'd followed all of her instructions to a tee, except for the most important one of all. _Leave him for me._

Sacrlett had asked Sam to send the powerful demon back to hell and instead, he'd let the rush of divine blood mixing with his own, and whatever demonic plasma remained, dictate his actions. Once again, he had let someone down just to kill a demon. "I-I'm sorry," he stammered, unsure if there was anything he could say to make it better.

The disheveled and bloody blonde opened her mouth to speak, but a wave of fresh pain ripped through her body and an agonized scream tore from her throat. "Why is this _taking_ so long?"

Dean looked away from his brother for a moment to focus on her as he desperately tried to stop the bleeding. She deserved that much from him. "Because we're not letting it."

She shook her head at him. "No, the healing. It doesn't normally take this long."

Dean took Sam's silence as a means to speak again. "Why, you've been hit with a bullet before?" he asked her, a hint of snarkiness in his voice that he just couldn't stifle.

Hear the edge creep back into his voice, an amused smile played at the corners of her lips. "This is the seventh time, but it hurts the worst," she answered and then took a deep breath that didn't result in any choking. "Probably why it's taking so long."

A light bulb clicked on in Dean's head. "You can talk in sentences now," he informed her with a tone significantly lighter than his previous one.

Scarlett nodded and then shut her eyes tightly with a grimace, a searing pain shooting through her ribs. "Take it off."

The older Winchester studied her delicate features for a little while before he realized what she meant. "They're the only things holding in the blood."

She knew it'd be hard to explain to Dean and even harder for him to understand. He thought that she was dying, Lucifer's release having changed all the rules of the game. But Scarlett Lucas was born with something that Dean Winchester was raised without: faith.

"Take it off," she repeated, her eyes still tightly shut. "It's okay, Dean. This isn't my first… rodeo."

His eyes flickered to Sam's and he breathed a relenting sigh before he pulled away the first shirt, his red plaid flannel. Below his shirt lay the blood-soaked rag that used to be Sam's olive green thermal. Careful not to splatter crimson on his black tee or his brother's white wifebeater, Dean slowly matted to her flesh by blood. "It looks like you were gored by a bull at your damn rodeo."

Her teeth ground together as her eyes popped open and a hiss passed through her lips. "Can you see the bullet?"

His green eyes peered carefully into the mess. "All I see is red…"

Scarlett's back arched and she groaned, "Look again!"

When his eyes moved back towards her stomach, they instantly widened in amazement. "Holy shit."

The once-crater-like hole in her body had shrunken slightly and was beginning to repair itself at the seams. Shock and marvel on their faces, Sam and Dean watched in disbelief as the new flesh took the place of the blood. When the wound had shrunken to the size of a dime, a small bit of metal oozed out.

Hesitantly, Dean reached down and plucked it off her crimson-caked sink. "Son of a bitch used a hollow point, cased in silver. Does he _not_ know how hard that shit is to make?"

The wound finally closed and left her skin as unmarred as it had been two hours ago. Running a hand over her midsection, Scarlett sat up slowly. "Somehow, I don't think he cared."

"You okay?" Sam asked, grabbing a hold of her bicep in case she needed steadying.

She reared her head to shoot him a glare that chilled him to his very core. "Oh yeah. I just took a bullet to the gut that turned my internal organs into shredded wheat cereal. But otherwise, I'm just peachy. Thanks for asking, _Sam_."

He released her from his grip and shrunk backwards like a wounded puppy. "I'm going to go call Bobby… from my cell. In the car."

"You do that," she answered him icily.

Dean waited until his brother opened the car door and retreated inside before speaking. "He can't control it, you know."

Her attention turned back towards Dean. "Excuse me?"

"The demon blood." The hunter pulled himself back into a crouch on the balls of his feet and rose up, extending a hand to help her stand as well. "I used to think he could, but I was wrong. It brings something out in him… something dark. Something I've never seen from him before. It just takes hold of him and it's like…" he trailed off, brushing the dirt off of his jeans. "It's like the Sam I know is gone… buried so deep down inside him that if I wasn't his brother, I'd never know he was in there to begin with."

She opened her mouth to speak, but was hit by a wave of dizziness so severe it caused her to double over. His hand shot out of nowhere and latched onto her arm, preventing her from colliding face-first with the ground. "Shit…"

Swiftly, Dean moved in front of her and gripped her other arm to help steady her. "Whoa… you alright?"

She sucked in a breath through her teeth. "Yeah, just got really dizzy all of a sudden. I'll be fine."

He eyed her as she attempted to straighten up, only making it to a forty-five degree angle. "You sure?"

Scarlett raised her hands and pressed them to her eyes. "Yeah…" A few seconds later, she pulled them away and blinked rapidly. "Listen, Dean, as much as I hate to say this… I can't drive if I can barely see straight. Last thing I need to do is kill you and Sam after all this. I'm going to try and sleep it off in the backseat. The keys are still in the ignition. You drive her."

"Me?" He stuck his index finger into his chest. "You want me to drive?"

"Your reputation with the Impala precedes you," Scarlett told him with the slightest hint of a smile on her face. "If there was anyone I'd trust to be at the wheel other than me, it'd be you."

Dean couldn't help but snort as he released his grip on her left arm. "Thanks. You need help getting in?"

She nodded affirmatively and began to slowly walk around the trunk of the Mustang, with the six foot, one inch hunter maintaining a firm hold on her. When they got to the driver's door, he reached out to open it and pushed the front seat forward so she could climb in. "Thanks," she mumbled and eased herself in.

He dipped his head in acknowledgement as Sam flipped the phone shut from his position on the passenger side. "Wait, you're driving?"

Dean climbed into the Mustang and shut the door. Looking up in the rear-view mirror, he watched as Scarlett crumpled up in the back, curling up in the fetal position with her fingers massaging her temple. "Shocked the shit out of me too."

* * *

The remainder of the journey was relatively silent as Scarlett slumbered in the backseat of her car, while Dean navigated to Bobby's place. Still too weak to drive in the aftermath of the demon attack, she had turned over the keys to the older brother and later instructed him to keep it under one hundred unless the situation was dire.

She wasn't comfortable in the back bench of the vehicle, but if there was one thing the blonde had learned after two hundred and seventy six years, it was that her pride was not worth the risk to others. Then again, her discomfort wasn't because of the actual seats or cramped space, nor was it because someone else was at the helm of her pride and joy. She knew that the Mustang was in the more-than-capable hands of Dean Winchester, whom Anna had informed her was a terrific driver. Instead it was her own mind that was responsible for her tossing and turning in the rear.

Scarlett had been stabbed, slashed, shot, spiked, and wounded in a thousand other ways before, the majority of which would have proved mortal wounds to anyone else on Earth. But of course, being the immortal that she was, all of the injuries had healed at a conveniently quick rate. Well, all of the ones before her most recent gunshot wound. A process which normally took no more than five minutes if the injury was severe had lasted forty-five minutes, forty-five gutwrenchingly excruciating minutes that would have been worse if it hadn't been for Sam's quick thinking… _Sam._

Thinking about him made her stomach churn with guilt. He had done everything he could to minimize her pain and keep her safe, going as far as to break every promise he had made to himself. And what had she done in return? Screamed at him and added another weight to his already-burdened shoulders.

Perhaps if he knew who Victor was… what he had _done_, Sam would understand why she had reacted as she had, partially fueled by pain and anger.

The more she thought about it, the more Scarlett realized that she was just as much to blame as he was. And as soon as an opportunity presented itself, she would be sure to tell him that herself.

* * *

Two hours of sleep later, the Mustang slowed to a stop, walking both slumbering passengers. Sam returned to full consciousness first, stretching his long legs out in front of him as far as they would go. At the very least, it'd rid himself of the numb feeling that would leave him looking like a toddler as he took his first steps away from the car.

His green eyes flitted about his surroundings, taking in all of the greenery around him that was draped in reds and golds from the setting sun. From what he could surmise, they were somewhere in Wisconsin. Most likely, a small town on the outskirts of the border.

He wondered why they had stopped in a town as insignificant to their journey as this one, but when he turned to his right and stared out the window, he knew exactly why they'd stopped.

"Mel's Diner?" a snort came from the backseat. "Could they _be_ a little more cliché?"

"Maybe," Dean answered with a shrug and snapped his cell shut. "But I'm starving!"

Her hazel eyes rolled as she flipped open her own phone. "I have to make a phone call, give me a sec."

Dean nodded and popped open his door, momentarily exiting so that she could get some privacy outside. As soon as she had squeezed out, Dean returned to the wheel. "You're all silent and broody tonight."

Sam's lip twitched as he kept staring out the glass. "Bite me."

"Whoa, now…" His brother held up his hands in mock surrender. "Not in front of the lady."

"Dean," Sam exhaled through grit teeth. "For once, can you just leave me alone? I don't need you to provide me with a sarcastic psychoanalysis, okay?"

"Okay, Angsty," he brother replied with a cheeky smirk. "And just because you're acting like a bitch, I don't want to eat at a table with you. So guess what?"

The taller brother sighed. He preferred his brother to the girl at the moment, which was normally not the case. "_What_?"

"You get to go inside and get our food to go."

Sam opened his mouth to protest, but a knock on the driver's side window cut him off.

Dean rolled down the window and leaned on the frame with his elbow. "You're just in time. Angsty over here is going to go inside the diner and get our grub to go!"

"Dean, don't be a dick to your brother…" she lectured him in a motherly tone.

"It's _because_ he's my brother that I get to be a dick."

She rolled her eyes for the second time in the last five minutes. "Come on, Sam. I'll go with you. Being left alone in a confined space with your brother is like a punishment for me."

"Hey, what did I do?"

"Oh, Dean," she laughed and patted his cheek with her right palm. "You were your absolutely lovely self."

Silently, Sam opened his door and started for the restaurant ignoring the exchange of banter. Taking note, Scarlett mouthed a quick 'thank you; at Dean, to which he nodded, and chased after Sam.

"Sam, wait!" she called out to him and he stopped, running a hand through his hair.

"What is it, Scarlett?" he asked her dejectedly and she winced at the defeated tone of his voice.

It only took a few more paces to catch up, but she had severely underestimated his stride. "Can we talk?"

He glanced around the parking lot. "Here?"

Scarlett turned and pointed to a bench across the street from the diner at the start of a park. "Over there okay?"

Sam looked over at the land and then back to her. "What about dinner? Last thing I need to hear is…"

"Ordered it alright." She smiled triumphantly. "Three bacon cheeseburgers, fries, and we'll get sodas when we pick it up. The beauty of text messaging."

His eyes narrowed at her. "The call you needed to make was to the diner?"

"I can't help it if they have a neon sign of their phone number in the window," Scarlett said with a shrug, taking a step towards the street in hopes of persuading Sam. "What can I say? I got sucked in by the great advertising."

The corner of his lop began to curl upward, but he did his best to fight it. She was mad at him and he wasn't supposed to be laughing at her, let alone smiling. By the time he finished fighting the urge, they had already crossed the road.

"Listen, Sam," the woman beside him sighed and ran a hand through her blonde hair as they stopped before the bench. "I'm sorry for what I said back there, on the side of the road…"

"No," he cut her off at the pass and sunk down onto the worn-down maple. "You asked me to do one thing and I couldn't. I ignored you. I went darkside."

"It's not your fault, though." Scarlett lowered herself next to him. "My blood is much more powerful than any demon's blood. To a human that was chosen like yourself, it's the same as injecting pure adrenaline into your veins. Combine that with any demon blood, no matter how little, and it's volatile," she explained further. "I've seen it before. I knew the risk…" Her hazel eyes looked from her boots to Sam at her left. "And I shouldn't have asked it of you."

He nodded slowly in understanding and then stopped. "Wait, you said you've seen this before."

"Yes," she replied. "This wasn't the first time a demon tried to create an army, but the last time, he gave the infants too much blood, gave too many his blood in general. They lost their humanity…"

"… And couldn't cross the Devil's Trap," Sam finished for her. "So he gave us enough to turn us, but keep us human at the same time. That's why Colt built it… he knew they were too far gone."

"Exactly," Scarlett remarked, patting his leg once. She was proud of Sam for putting it together. It had taken her a few months to figure it out and he had done it in less than three minutes. For a moment, she could have sworn his eyes were gray… then she blinked, horrified, and they were green again. "But when the demon gave them each a few drops of my blood, they turned on him and sent him back to hell for over a hundred and fifty years."

"The demon who possessed the driver…" he started scuffing a food against the concrete. "Was that him?"

"Yes," Scarlett affirmed, exhaling deeply as she rubbed her forearm. "This name was Victor. I didn't know he was out…"

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "But what about the angels?"

A sarcastic chuckle escaped her lips. "Telephone chain is a little faulty right now. Only Castiel and Anna can be trusted."

Suddenly, something clicked in Sam's head and he turned his body towards her, looking her straight in the eye. "Scarlett, how did Victor get your blood in the first place?"

Scarlett took a deep breath. She'd decided she would tell him… and there was no better time than the present.

* * *

Dean started out the window at his brother and the divinely-created woman as they stopped in the parking lot to talk.

Initially upon meeting her… and by meeting her, he meant waking up in her home… there had been an initial attraction on his end. Then again, Dean was attracted to any woman with a nice body, great smile, and a killer rack. Obviously, as the daughter of the Creator, she'd have been cut from the most perfect of all the bombshell molds. He didn't expect anything less.

But from the moment they stepped foot in that car of hers, the whole dynamic had changed. It was Scarlett, the lithe powerhouse, at the wheel, Sam-Sam the telekinetic man at shot… and Dean in the back seat.

He resented her for it, for taking his brother away from him after he'd fought tooth and nail to bring him back from the dark path he'd drifted towards for so long. He fought with her at every turn, over everything and anything, just to make her miserable. He didn't need her help or her protection. He was Dean freaking Winchester and he and Sam would be just fine on their own.

But of course, per usual, he was wrong. She'd purposefully caused herself excruciating pain to protect the brothers by taking a bullet to the stomach meant for Dean. And judging by the rate of her healing, could have risked her life.

Dean had watched as she'd writher in pain on the filthy ground, reliving memories Scarlett had probably suppressed for more than a century, possibly two. And as he pressed the blood-soaked cloth to her shredded flesh, Dean had realized that Scarlett Lucas, the daughter of the most perfect being in the universe, was just as damaged as he was.

"I see you have put your differences behind you," a voice spoke in the silence, causing Dean to jump.

He whirled around angrily. "Dammit, Cas. Don't _do_ that!"

"I apologized," the angel replied monotonously. "I had no intention of frightening you.

"I wasn't _frightened_," Dean's nostrils flared in disgust at the use of the word. "I was surprised."

"Then I apologize for surprising you," Castiel corrected himself.

"Cas…" Dean squinted at him, the slightest hint of a smirk present. "Was that… _sarcasm_?"

"I believe it was," the angel decided. "Scarlett has been teaching me more about the ways of humans lately. Was it correct?"

Dean shook his head incredulously. "It was perfect."

"Good."

"What did you mean she has been teaching you lately?" He asked suddenly. "We haven't seen you in days."

"It is the same as when I visit you in dreams," Castiel began to explain to his new human charge. "Except that I am always in hers. It is very risky for me to leave them, as I leave her open to attack in her most vulnerable state. When I go to speak to you, it is always near her. I cannot leave my charge unprotected."

Dean nodded slowly, processing all of the information swimming in his head. "So when I was fishing off the dock of the lake in my dream…"

"She was watching the sunset beside the shore, on the other side of a tree nearby."

"Creepy."

"Why would you say that?" he asked, perplexed.

"Nevermind. We still have some things to work on… what do you need, Cas?"

"You see your brother?" Castiel inquired, shifting his stare from Dean to Sam and Scarlett in the distance.

Dean watched as they sat on the bench. "Yeah."

"She is going to tell him about the demon who killed her parents. And since there is little time to explain as it is, and I would like to spare her from re-living such a painful memory more times than is necessary, I shall re-tell that story to you," he told him, his blue eyes tinted like ice.

The hunter's head whirled in the angel's direction. "How could you _possibly_ know the whole story?"

"Because, Dean," Castiel addressed him, his voice as deadly as Dean had ever heard. "I was there."

* * *

**A/N: Dun dun dun! I thought that was a fun little cliffhanger for you all! And don't worry, Bobby comes around next chapter. Finally, right?!?**

**Thanks for sticking with me the last two weeks. I just moved back into school last Saturday, so I was pretty swamped. But alas, I'm back.**

**On a funny note… my mother found in a drawer of mine a printed copy of Chapter 6 that I had edited during a long train ride before it was published. And because of the whole Sam drinking Scarlett's blood thing, she randomly asked me how my new Twilight story was going. So I assume she read the whole thing, since I never let her read anything. And clearly, doesn't know I write SPN. OH WELL!**

**Shout-outs:**

**Deansqueen4 – **Perhaps. But right now, their current state of good relations is based upon sarcasm.

**Winchesters are for Lovers – **English major? Could have guessed! Thanks for the great review.

**Angelofthenight – **I LOVE badass Sam too!

**Mrs. Sam Winchester – **Since you will have read this whole chapter, I guess you'll have noticed you were one hundred percent correct!

**Winchestersarelove – **Almost, haha.

**WWESupernatural102292 - **Thank you, so glad you liked it! I'm hoping that this chapter lived up to your expectations. Wait until next chapter, when you find out the whole story! Thanks for reviewing!

**Nancy – **My favorite reviewer! You're always the best. :-)

**Livelovelaughshop – **Now you get an awesome review reply! It's funny… I was on the train ride home from work this summer and knew I wanted to create a Dean/OC story that was post-Season 4. I was trying to figure out a way that she was highly powerful in a way that hadn't been seen yet with something that wasn't overly done. I originally started planning her character out as a fallen fallen angel. But then it dawned on me. And I immediately called up my BFF, Nancy, to bounce ideas off of her. Since she liked it, I went with it… and haven't looked back since! Thanks for all of the compliments and I'm so glad to hear I've personified them well! Hope you enjoy this chapter!

**Midnight LeAnn – **Thank you!!! I hope you like this one too.

**Klandgraf2007 – **Yes, she does… I wish I had her powers! And you will find out EXACTLY what went down with Victor in the next chapter.

**You guys are amazing. And remember…**

**Push the little gray and green button below!**

**I**

**I**

**I**

**V**


	8. Chapter 8

"Do you remember how I told you my mother died when I was ten?" Sam nodded silently, awaiting her response. "It's not true," she informed him, her eyes flitting towards her shoes. "But I didn't want to lie to you and Dean." Her hazel orbs rose once more. "I've just been telling everyone that for a few centuries and it's become like a reflex…" she stated and then paused, her voice taking a tone similar to that of an answering machine. "My mother died when I was ten, my father… as of the sixties… lives in a retirement community in Boca. I'm an only child. It's like I'm-"

"On autopilot," he finished for her, much to Scarlett's surprise, and imitated her tone before speaking again, "My dad's a traveling salesman, moved me and my older brother, Dean, here for business. Mom died in a house fire when I was just a baby."

Clearly, he'd grown accustomed to parroting those words as a kid and most likely, Dean had followed a similarly formatted line. "So you know what it's like then to brand yourself a liar the moment you open your mouth?"

"It's the biggest regret…" he trailed off, stopping because of the tightening in his chest at the mere thought of his deceased girlfriend.

"Sam, I'm sorry," she sighed, rubbing her forehead guiltily. "I didn't mean to bring her up.

Sam shook her off. "Believe me, I think about her plenty without you bringing her up." He let out a sigh of his own and then focused back in on his new friend. "But you were telling me a story."

"Right…" she nodded and exhaled deeply. "But before I tell you what happened that night, you need to know who I was back then because what I am like today? Well, it took me two hundred and sixty years to get here."

* * *

"Scarlett was a lot different two hundred and fifty years ago," Castiel explained, his ice blue eyes locked on his long-time charge. "She was only sixteen when Victor came for her."

The green-eyed man's gaze lifted upwards as he attempted to do the math in his head. "That was in 1749?"

"Yes," the angel affirmed and turned his attention back to the hunter. "Thirty years before there was a great war in this land, Scarlett, her mother, Elizabeth, and her adoptive father, James, lived in a small house sixty miles from what is known today as Manhattan. His eyes glanced over at the girl in question every thirty seconds or so in order to keep her within his sights. "It was November 2nd when the flame of the oil lamp in the corner of the room flickered, signaling an impending arrival."

"A demon," Dean spoke, filling in the blanks. "But November 2nd… that's the day my mother died."

"Yes, I am aware of that. And on that night, a pattern was set into motion that not an angel in my garrison could anticipate," he replied. "One that was repeated on November 2, 1835. And again on November 2, 1983."

"The day of the fire…"

"Yes, Dean. The very same day Azazel came into your home for Sam," Castiel spoke monotonously as he looked him dead in the eye. "Was exactly two hundred and thirty four years after Victor had come into the Lucas home for Scarlett."

* * *

"You remind me so much of him sometimes that it actually scares me," Scarlett admitted as a blush crept up her cheeks and she scraped her shoes against the concrete. "Not physically. He was about six feet tall, black hair. And gray eyes. Man, could I get lose in those…" Sam cleared his throat, knocking her back on track. "But he was so good to me, Sam. He was there for me emotionally when I had no one else to be there. It was so lonely being different and he was the only one beside my parents who knew."

"It must have been a relief."

"For a while, yes," she recalled, smiling fondly as a few memories of their childhood together passed through her head. Then her voice grew somber. "But I wish all three of us had known more…"

* * *

_The biting cold had finally subsided in the colony, if only for a day in the typically harsh November. Still, it was long enough for Scarlett to convince her mother that only one blanket was necessary. She had insisted that the teenager sleep with three as to not catch illness, something she had avoided her entire life thus far._

_Elizabeth Lucas attributed her daughter's ability to remain healthy to her Father's protection, but did not wish to leave anything to chance; it was never wise to tempt the Lord._

_"Have they arrived yet?" the petite blonde asked, buttoning the three buttons on her collared white nightgown._

_"No, my darling," her mother replied softly with a shake of her head, her long golden hair twisted up into a loose bun. "But they shall be here shortly."_

_"Is he coming with them?" She ran a comb through her own long locks, slightly darker than her mother's._

_A small smile spread across Elizabeth's lips. "No, he is not. He must remain at home. It's not proper, Scar…"_

_Her daughter nodded as the sound of trotting horses and a knock on the pine door echoed off her bedroom walls. "Elizabeth? William and Catherine's horses are approaching."_

_"Alright, James," she called back to him. "I will be out in a moment."_

_Scarlett crawled into her bed, lined with ivory-colored sheets and pulled the blankets up to her abdomen. "I am nervous, Mother."_

_The older woman smiled reassuringly and placed a kiss on her daughter's forehead, the white cotton fabric of her dress's bodice sweeping across her arm. "Do not be. If it is your Father's will, it should happen. Now…" She took a few steps towards the door and lit the oil lamp in the corner with a match. "At least pretend you're asleep for when Father comes to check on you after the Wellingtons leave. I will tell you of the terms later."_

_"Goodnight, Mother."_

_"Goodnight, Scarlett."_

* * *

"… and those were the last words my mother and I ever spoke to each other."

* * *

"Who were the Wellingtons?" Dean inquired as the angel paused. "And why were they at her house?"

"William and Catherine Wellington were the mother and father of Andrew Wellington," Castiel explained, his blue eyes turning a shade of cobalt. "They were discussing the terms of Andrew and Scarlett's engagement."

Dean's eyes almost popped out of his skull. "They were getting married? She was sixteen!"

"Your… _culture_… was very different then. It was strange that the Lucases had a daughter aged more than fifteen who was un-promised. But Andrew and Scarlett were different…"

"Why?" he snorted in amusement. "Andrew was thirty?"

The man in possession of Jimmy Novak shook his head in what Dean could have sworn was sadness. "Because they were in love."

* * *

_Scarlett had just finished threading the last button of her dress when she caught her reflection in the mirror resting on a wall._

_Her dress mirrored that of her mother's in design: long sleeved with button cuffs, buttons from neck to waist, and a bodice that flared out from navel-height. Elizabeth's was white, Scarlett's was a deep amethyst, her favorite color of all. It was a little too warm in the room for her liking, so she rolled up the sleeves to her elbows._

_Moments later, she heard a light tapping on her window. With a bright grin, she turned and pushed open the curtains, watching as an arm appeared in their place._

_The well-muscled forearm was soon replaced by a leg, then another, and then a torso. By the time various body parts had finished sliding into the house, a young man of no more than seventeen years stood on the wooden floor. His white sleeves had been cuffed to his highly defined biceps, now on display. He bent forward slightly to brush off his black pants, giving the young woman a good view of his chiseled chest through the three open buttons of his shirt._

_His gray eyes looked up at her, catching her slightly off guard. "Stop staring at my hair."_

_Scarlett fought off the smile creeping onto her face. "It really is not as bad as you think it. I actually find that it suits you."_

_He shook his head at her. "It suited me when it was as long as my father's… bloody vermin."_

_She sighed, remembering how awful it was for him to have his hair shorn off to the skin when it was discovered that he had contracted lice. Unfortunately, no one had known where it had come from and the local minister had gone as far as to re-baptize him in an effort to put him back in the favor of God._

_The blonde approached him and stood on her toes to reach his head, sliding her palm and fingers over his scalp. "A month has passed, Andrew. It is much better than when Dr. Morton shaved it." Her index finger grazed over a raised, thin line of crusted blood and stopped. "Sit," she told him softly, pushing lightly on his chest._

_Andrew backed up a few steps until he was seated in the wicker chair at the foot of her bed. "I am fine…"_

_"Shh…" Scarlett hushed him and continued to run her fingertips over his skin, finding five or six more slashes tucked beneath the hair that had grown back. "They are not as bad as they once were. They have healed quite nicely."_

_"It still pains me at night," he admitted._

_"It won't last much longer," Scarlett informed him, continuing her movement. "But I could fix it if you would like."_

_"No, it will heal on its own," he answered._

_Her mouth slid into a frown. "I still do not understand why you would not allow me to heal your wounds in the first place."_

_"Because it would appear out of the ordinary. Wounds from the blade of a knife do not heal in a day. They take time. And according to the people of this forsaken town, your father… your _real_ Father… does not find me in his favor," the black-haired man explained to her._

_The answer did not satisfy the stubborn blonde. "You could have fallen back into His favor in their eyes… and those imbeciles would stop treating you like a damned leper!" Scarlett exclaimed furiously._

_"I do not care what they believe. They do not know what I know… what __we know." He reached up and lightly gripped her wrists in the palm of his hands, pulling them towards him. "Besides, Princess, I am supposed to be looking after you."_

_Scarlett flushed at the use of the name he had given her. "Have you forgotten how difficult that will be? You can walk into the other room now and speak to your parents if you wish. I will not hold you to blame."_

_"I will never go back on my word," Andrew said and pressed his lips to the porcelain skin on the back of her hand. "I will provide for you and protect you until death."_

* * *

"So she was in love with this guy…"

"Yes." Castiel dipped his head in affirmation.

His brows narrowed together. "Are you trying to tell me that she is married, Cas?"

"I am not."

"Because if you think that she and I…" Dean fumbled for words. "Like Anna and I…"

"Gossip is not something we discuss in my garrison, Dean," the angel deadpanned. "Nor is human intercourse."

"Ugh," the hunter blanched. "You sound like my ninth grade art teacher when Ricky Archer was showing off a naked picture of Katie Price, the head cheerleader." Castiel stared at him blankly. "Nevermind," he muttered in response.

* * *

"You didn't know that you could not die, did you?" Sam asked, although he was pretty sure he already knew the answer.

She shook her head and confirmed his thought. "Like I said, I wish that we had known more at the time than we did."

"And your parents were discussing the terms of your engagement with Andrew's parents?"

"Yes. Second only to my family, William and Catherine's farm was the largest and most successful in the colony."

"Did you have many, um…" Sam trailed off in search of the proper word. "Suitors?"

She chuckled lightly at the use of the word. "Yeah, I was quite a big deal back in the day. I was pretty and I was rich. I was the perfect package. Men made the trip from England just to get a crack at me!"

The hunter mulled it over for a moment. "But your parents chose Andrew."

"He and I had grown up together," she explained to the young man who reminded her so much of the person in question. "Our farms neighbored, so our parents were close. His father was also a candlemaker, of which there were no others in our colony at the time, so he dabbled in both candles and farming. And my mother had a beautiful flower patch on the farm. So he would take her flowers and make them into candles." Scarlett smiled, remembering the scent of her lilies wafting through the open window. "And Catherine, with my mother, would spend time in our kitchen making perfumes to send back to her sister in England, whose shop they were sold in. They were great friends, we all were."

"But you two changed."

"Some men and women were able to just be friends. Andrew and I could not…" Her heels slid across the concrete again. "But our families brought us closer still and he asked his father if he could begin arrangements. It saved me from marrying a fat, bald Englishman… and kept us together for what I thought would be a lifetime,"

"So what happened?"

"We never made it that far."

* * *

_The oil lamp in the corner of the room began to flicker, light dancing across the young couple's faces. Andrew immediately stood and crossed to the table upon which it rested. "There is oil still. It was only the wind."_

_"It has been strangely windy tonight," Scarlett remarked as he returned to her._

_He agreed as the fire flickered again. "It is stronger in the autumn. It will most likely rain tonight."_

_"You must be sure to take care when you leave tonight. You mustn't fall ill…"_

_"No one will leave this house tonight," a voice hissed in the darkest corner of the room._

_Scarlett whirled around in the direction of the voice. "Wh-who are you?"_

_"The demon that will bring rise to Lucifer once more," he sneered at her._

_Andrew stepped in front of her protectively, shielding her from him effectively. "What is it that you want?"_

_His chapped lips twisted into a sinister smile as the pair got their first full glimpse of the demon. The man was dressed in a pair of black trouser pants, a black shirt, and matching shoes. His dark hair was slicked back into a low ponytail and his cold brown eyes were locked on the blonde. "Her blood…"_

_The young man puffed out his chest and pushed her further back. "Then you will have to go through me first."_

_"Gladly," the demon spat at him as he lifted a hand, telekinetically flinging him into a wall._

_Scarlett's eyes grew to saucers and her heart clenched. "Andrew!"_

_As the demon reared his head towards her, the pine door flew open and William and James appeared in the doorway._

_"Scarlett!" James yelled, only to be tossed aside next to Andrew._

_The demon quickly grew frustrated by the large party that had formed of the parents and ripped a board from the floor. From the hole he had left behind, he raised two knives and sent them hurtling across the room…_

_And into the hearts of William and Catherine Wellington, both of whom fell to the ground with sickening thuds._

_"As though I have not been watching…" he smirked._

* * *

"You said you were there, Cas! How could you watch them _die_?"

The angel swallowed harshly. "I need permission to enter a body. William and Catherine were dead…"

"And what about her parents? Or Andrew?" Dean challenged him incredulously, slightly surprised at the anger nipping at his veins.

"Allow me to explain…"

* * *

_Suddenly, Scarlett felt herself unable to move, as though invisible ropes had bound her limbs together and were staked to the ground. The blonde watched helplessly, her father and fiancé lying unconscious and her mother a sitting duck._

_The demonic man snickered as she struggled without success and he slammed Elizabeth into a wall, holding her there. "Seeing as I'm about to kill you all, it would be quite rude of me to do so un-introduced. I am Victor." He glanced over at James, who was attempting to make his way to his feet. "Well, I guess I can begin now." Without warning, he raised both of his hands and twisted them, breaking James's neck._

_"Father!" Scarlett screamed, tears streaming down her cheeks._

_"Oh, _Scarlett_," he hissed in amusement. "I think the time for pretending to be Daddy's little girl is over… now who is next?" His blackened eyes shifted to Elizabeth. "I have seen how close you are with your mother. Perhaps, it'd be more fitting if you died together."_

_She felt herself pressed against the wooden panels of the wall, sliding upwards. In fear, she glanced across the room at her mother, who was rising with her._

_"Oh, it appears as though I forgot something," Victor decided as the two women were cemented to the ceiling. For a moment, he retreated to the corner, but soon returned with a dull silver basin he placed beneath the divine child. Wielding a knife, he commanded it across the porcelain skin of her wrists, crimson dropping from her wounds into the bowl. "How aptly named you are!"_

_The pain tore through Scarlett's body as the blade sliced open her flesh, causing her to scream. It was in that moment, she saw Andrew stir._

_His gray eyes fluttered open and he mumbled only one word: "Yes."_

_A bright light illuminated his body for a few seconds and Victor snarled. "Last thing I need…" he walked forward and snapped Andrew's neck with his own hands, the light vanishing._

_Scarlett began to sob heavily again, choking on her tears. "No… please. Bring him back!"_

_"No can do…" he sang merrily._

_"You MONSTER!"_

_"Oooh… torture before death." Victor grinned up at her. "I am quite excellent, even you must admit. But I have one final treat for you, Scarlett!"_

_"You have already taken my father and my fiancé from me, as well as my blood," she snapped at him, her lip still quivering as she fought off the dizziness. "Is that not enough?"_

_"No." The demon shook his head and raised his knife once more, sending it closer and closer to Elizabeth. "Until Lucifer rises again, it will __never be enough."_

_A piercing shriek hung in the air, but all Scarlett heard was the sound of skin being sliced apart. She looked over at her mother, bleeding from her abdomen and fading fast._

_Everything wavered around her, colors blurring together as though someone was shaking the room. She was growing dizzier by the second, but did not know if it was the blood leaving her veins or the loss of everyone she loved that was to blame._

_As darkness crept over her, only one thing was on her mind: Castiel._

_It was a slight buzzing in her right ear that kept her conscious and Scarlett was certain that Victor could not hear the noise. Her breath now labored, she fought off the heaviness pinning down her eyelids long enough to break one word through her lips, "Yes."_

_Instantly, Scarlett felt as though a weight had been lifted off her chest, the strings cut from her body, as white light flooded the room._

_Then her world went black._

* * *

"The next thing I remember was running out of the house as it was being consumed by flames…" she stopped abruptly, a chill running down the length of her spine at the very thought of the flames licking at her heels. "And I was the only one left. But it wasn't like I was doing the running. It was like I was a robot, running on command… occupying a host."

Sam pulled the shaking Scarlett to his chest and wrapped his arms around her tightly. "I'm sorry you had to relive that again because of me."

The blonde pulled away from him a foot or two and wiped at her eyes. "It was Victor," she told him, her voice like acid as it spewed his name. "And _you _stopped him, Sammy."

"I should have-"

"No," she stopped him. "It was the right thing to do, Sam. If you had sent him back, he just would have found us again. It needed to be done… I was just letting my emotions rule me."

"There is _nothing_ wrong with that," he tried to assure her.

"Only if I make the right decisions every time."

* * *

The older Winchester wrinkled his nose in disgust. "So she was your _meat suit_?"

"It was the only way to save her," the angel attempted to explain. "Everyone was gone… he killed Andrew when I tried to take over. If I tried to enter Elizabeth, he would have killed her too. I had to work through Scarlett."

He slammed his hands onto the steering wheel in frustration. "But her mother died anyway!"

"And it was a regrettable loss," he lamented as much as he was capable of, his eyes darkening. "All of them were. But she was my priority… she was my charge. And I had to limit the damage to her as much as I was able."

The emerald-eyed man leaned back, his head connecting with the fabric of the Mustang's headrest. Scenes from his own childhood flashed through his head. "She didn't want to leave Sam behind," Dean concluded, staring at the wheel. "She didn't want me to feel her pain."

"You are not all that different, you know," Castiel reminded him.

"Except for the whole magic powers thing," he snorted and turned towards the passenger seat, only to find the angel had disappeared. Instead, Scarlett and Sam stood outside the window, staring at him. "Well, well," he chuckled as the door opened. "If it isn't Sasquatch and Supergirl."

"Supergirl brings food…" she replied and held up the plastic bags holding the Styrofoam containers. "And Sasquatch… I mean, _Sam_, sorry… comes baring pie!"

The hunter instantly perked up. "How _much _pie?"

"Two full pies," Scarlett answered with a laugh as she took the white cardboard from Sam and handed it to Dean. "Blueberry and apple. Just like I promised."

This time, Sam was the confused Winchester. "Like you _promised_?"

Scarlett stared down at her shoes. "I kind of texted Dean while I was in the backseat and promised him some pie in exchange for giving us some time alone."

Sam turned back to his brother with accusing eyes. "You told me that text message was from Bobby!"

Dean shrugged, making quick work of the red string around the box with his knife, and lifted off the lid of the pie, which turned out to be apple. He then reached into the glove box and pulled out a plastic fork from a small cardboard box stashed inside. "I lied."

"Forks in the glove compartment?" The young woman eyed him in confusion. "I never keep those in there."

"I put them in there," he responded and stabbed the utensil into the fresh pie, bringing a forkful to his mouth. After some chewing, he swallowed it with a satisfied grin. "You never know when you'll have a pie emergency."

Sam rolled his eyes and climbed into the backseat of the car as Scarlett hopped into shotgun. "And _I'm_ the one who's a freak."

"Well, I'm telekinetic, technopathic, and…" Scarlett shut her door, turning to Dean next to her. "What do you call a person that can change water into alcohol?"

"Um…" Dean took another bite of the pie, using his chewing time to think of a response. "Awesome?"

Scarlett didn't even try to stifle her chuckle. "Thanks, Dean. That means a lot from you."

"Yo weh-com," he replied with a mouthful of apple.

"Can you drive and eat pie at the same time?" she inquired curiously. "'Cause I kind of want to get to Bobby's within the next five hours."

Dean mulled it over for a moment in-between helpings of the dessert, despite the fact he hadn't even touched his burger yet. "Would you be willing to feed me?"

"Uh… no."

He immediately released the emergency break and shifted the car into drive. "Well then, I can drive and eat pie at the same time."

* * *

They arrived at Singer's Salvage Yard around midnight, the Winchesters' least favorite time of day, and found all of the lights on in the house. It was clear that Bobby was waiting for them.

The gravel crunched beneath the Mustang's tires as Dean slowed her to a stop. However, upon catching sight of the Impala gleaming in the moonlight, he had hastily thrown the car into park before he had bolted from the driver's seat for his prized automobile.

"I'm sure you understand," Sam mused at Scarlett, opening his door to stretch his long legs. "But I sure as hell don't."

"We make it out of the Apocalypse alive," she prefaced, shutting the passenger door in front of her. "I'll buy you whatever car you want. Then you'll understand."

The twenty-six year old laughed, "Whatever you say."

"Oh, baby," Dean whistled at the Impala. "How I've missed you. I promise, I'll never leave you again."

"Boy, you better not," a voice laced with a midwestern twang cut through the air. "I wake up to find this car has appeared in front of my house again, I'm gonna take 'er apart to make sure she don't go all Christine on me."

"Hey, Bobby," Dean greeted the older hunter who'd become a surrogate father to him and Sam.

"Hey, Dean," Bobby replied as he descended down the steps of his porch, three beers in his hands. "It's good to see ya."

"You too," Dean agreed and went to embraced him, only to be stopped.

"Nuh uh." The South Dakota native shook his head and held out a bottle to the younger man. "Drink first, talk after."

He nodded in understanding and took a bottle from Bobby, downing a few gulps of it as two bottles were passed to Sam, one handed off to Scarlett. His nose instantly wrinkled. "Ugh… watered down. Damn holy water."

Sam took a swig of the beer, as did Scarlett, who stretched out her hand to take Sam's. "Here, let me fix that."

After a few seconds, she handed the bottle of Budweiser back to Sam, and took a few steps towards Dean and the Impala. "Thanks, Scar."

"Dean?" Her hand reached for his bottle.

"Thanks." He placed the glass into her outstretched palm. Five seconds passed and he took it back, taking a long drink. "Much better."

Bobby snorted. "Water into beer, that's a new one."

Dean sensed Bobby's immediate apprehension and tried to ease the tension. "Better than a chick drink like wine coolers, right?"

But the older hunter was not that amused. "Mhmm…"

"Scarlett, Sammy," he called over to them in a slightly louder voice. "Grab the boxes out of the back and bring them inside, would you?"

As they busied themselves with the things in the backseat, Bobby made his way over to Dean. "You know, the angels screwed us, Dean. They almost got you and Sam killed."

"I know, Bobby." Dean nodded.

"They just stood around and let it happen," he continued bitterly. "So what business do we have trusting her? What makes her so… _different_?"

"Look, when I first met her… I felt the exact same way," he explained and shook his head slowly, lips pressed together. "I mean, Sam took to her immediately, but you and I know how good of a track record ol' Sammy has…" At Bobby's stern look, Dean cleared his throat and continued, "But she's not what I thought she was. She's really good for Sam… in ways I can't be."

"And what about you?"

His head tilted to the side. "What about me?"

The man dressed in dirty jeans and red flannel took a step closer to Dean. "You vouchin' for her?"

Dean's emerald orbs drifted towards the porch, where Scarlett was following Sam into the house. Even after disappearing beyond the yellow glow streaming from the doorway, his gaze lingered for a few moments, then snapped back to Bobby. "Yeah, I'll vouch for her."

Bobby nodded in response and briefly embraced the younger man with certainty before they headed for the house. "It's good to have you home, boy."

* * *

**A/N: I am so sorry that I took so long, but that's the unfortunate result of being a college student. I hope that this one was worth it and gave you a little more of an idea as to what Scarlett's past was like.**

**As for the series, I really like the way that Kripke, Ben, and Sera handled Lucifer and made him a little more sympathetic of a character. And uh, spoiler alert for Season 5, all THREE episodes… **

*************

**I was sad at the end of episode two when the brothers split up. I must admit, I got a little choked up when Dean offered Sam the Impala, only for him to turn down the offer. It was like Dean was still trying to show his brother that he trusted him in **_**some**_** way, but Sam knew the car belonged with him. **

**However, I kind of saw the Sam as the vessel thing coming, but I just didn't want it to be true. By the way… how AMAZING was Castiel last night? Like the best I've ever seen him. He was SO bad ass that he used the words bastard and bitch to speak to an archangel. That's crazy.**

*************

**I love the Impala and its 427 engine. What a beast. ****Sigh.**** I just got my own new car, a black 2010 Mustang that I have named Metallicar in honor of its classically beautiful predecessor. I do not have a 427, of course, but I still love the car. I made it a point, much to my mother's dismay in the passenger's seat, to listen to "Back in Black" as the first song ever in the car to christen her. However, I fought off the urge to turn to her and say, "Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts her cakehole." I feel as though that miiiight have been pushing my luck that day.**

**And for the record, I did not install an iPod jack to desecrate her. There's an auxiliary jack and usb port factory installed in the car. So there. Haha.**

**Anyway, a few characters that should be familiar are going to be coming into the story in either the next chapter, Chapter 9, or in Chapter 10. It depends on where I want it to end once I get rolling. **

**And rest assured, I know that these last eight chapters have only covered a matter of hours in each, but after this, time is going to go a lot faster. There **_**will**_** be a plan of action, not just a road trip to Bobby's house and sitting around for weeks. I promise, more of the Impala too. She's not just going to sit around in the salvage yard.**

**A few people asked me what I was going to do with the story once Season 5 started and after mulling it over, I've realized that if any aspects of the storyline fit in with my intended plot of "In Our Darkest Hour," I will include them. However, this story is going to be AU as a result of me marching to the beat of my own drum.**

**And fun fact of the day, which I just learned this morning… John's middle name is Eric. John Eric Winchester. Interesting. Now, can I get the brothers' middle names?**

**Without further adieu, review responses!**

**Lemonwedges4 – **THANK YOU, so much!

**Spikespoodle – **Thank you so much! I'm really glad that you like it so far. I look forward to hearing from you again and I hope you like this chapter too!

**Lois87 – **Thanks! I sincerely hope this chapter meets your expectations too!

**Midnight LeAnn – **Haha, sorry it took so long. Hopefully, this satisfies your curiosity. It was a really hard chapter to write that took a lot of research, so that's pretty much why it took so long. That and school, lol. Thanks for reviewing and being so loyal!

**Deansqueen4 – **I love that about him too, especially in last night's episode.

**Mrs. Sam Winchester – **Nope, I try to do everything for a reason. Sam and Scarlett finally had a little drama of their own.

**Winchestersarelove – **It's okay. And yes, you're right. As for me, I've been at college. 'Nuff said.

**Angelofthenight – **You see why they were gray now? *Wink*

**Winchesters Are For Lovers – **You have no idea how much that means to me. Thank you! Let me know if this chapter helped to succeed in that!

**Thanks again to all my readers for the reviews. If possible, I ask that you don't just review once. I love to know what you think of the story as it progresses, so even if you can't review every chapter, please try to let me know every two or three. I can only improve if you help.**

**Regardless, I love you all and appreciate all of your help with the story.**

**Rock on, Samazons and Dean!Divas!**

**Danielle**


	9. Chapter 9

It didn't take long to fill Bobby in once the four hunters sat down to talk. Scarlett had remained silent for the most part, allowing the brothers to relay most of the information and only jumping in when the men had missed an important detail.

For once, it was a relief not to be the only one in the loop and to _not_ do the talking. Two hundred and sixty years of that had been more than enough to handle for her.

"I'm heading to bed," Dean announced, causing Scarlett to realize that she must have zoned out and the discussion was now over. "Story time knocked me out."

"Both rooms are made up," Bobby informed him. "I've got pillows and a blanket for the couch."

The blonde spoke before either Winchester could protest the other sleeping on the couch. "I'm taking the couch."

Sam shook off the idea. "You'll share with me again. It's fine…"

"I'll only keep you awake," she countered, glancing down at the table. "I slept in the car for a few hours, so I'll be up for a while down here anyway."

Dean stood from the table first, pushing his chair beneath the wood ahead of him. "'Night." He locked eyes with her for a brief moment and then glanced away for a reason she couldn't determine. "I'll, uh… see you in the morning."

Sam rolled his eyes as Dean retreated from the room. "Listen, I don't care if you decide you're tired at seven am…" He pushed away from his seat beside her and rose to his feet. Instantly, she felt his hand lightly rest on her collarbone. "I'll stay off your side of the bed."

"Thanks, Sam." She smiled over her shoulder at him and after a light squeeze, he retreated from the room.

But as she watched Sam's lanky frame disappear up the stairs, it dawned on her that she was now completely alone with Bobby Singer for the first time all night.

"Sam's taken a hell of a shine to you," he remarked nonchalantly and she could feel his eyes on her.

She turned around and confirmed her suspicion. "He's a good kid."

"Kid." Bobby snorted. "I forget you're older than I am, which is a feat in and of itself."

Scarlett chuckled lightly, but with a hint of uneasiness. "I didn't use Botox, if that's what you're getting at."

"I learned a long time ago that there are three things you never ask a woman: her age, her weight, and her Botox regimen."

The weight on her chest lifted significantly. "I've heard a lot about you, Bobby Singer, but never once did anyone tell me how funny you are."

"Did they tell you how I'd kill anyone that hurt those boys?" he asked with deadly seriousness.

The blonde felt the pressure on her body return to its previous level. "Bobby, I…"

"Mouth shut, ears open, eyes on me," he cut her off at the pass and waited for her hazel eyes to reach his. "I ain't got any children. My wife's gone, John Winchester's gone, and those boys are all I got left," Bobby started, staring her down. "Now, Dean… Dean's gonna try and put the moves on you, if he hasn't already. And you're gonna do whatever you decide. But he's gonna be alright. I don't worry about him too much, more than I used to since he was sprung from Hell, but he can take care of himself. And Sam…" She watched as he paused for a moment to chew it over. "Sam's been through a lot. He's lost his girlfriend, his father, and both of his brothers, one for good, in the last four years. That does things to a person."

"I understand what it's like," she offered meekly.

"Then he goes and hooks up with that demon bitch while Dean's in the pit," he growled at the mere thought of her. "And before we know it, he's drinking blood, killing Lillith, and oh, look… here's the Apocalypse."

"I don't blame him, if that's what you think. I know a lot more about his circumstances than you give me credit for…"

"Sam trusts to easy. He finds someone he likes and is ready to follow 'em to the end of the Earth. He's got too much _faith_."

"Sometimes faith isn't a bad thing, Bobby."

"Faith?" he asked her incredulously. "I used to have faith, you know. Then I killed my own wife. Kind of sucks the faith right outta ya."

"I know that-"

"No," he interjected angrily, his face reddening. "You _don't_ know. No one should have to give up what we've given up. We did what the angels wanted and they sat back and watched Sam bring on the Apocalypse, so _excuse me_ if I don't have faith."

Scarlett folded her hands on top of the table as she contemplated what she wanted to say. Then she sighed. "Something's not right up there, Bobby."

He snorted. "I'll say."

She shook her head. "No, it's not like it used to be. There's dissention… it's not normal."

"If it weren't for Anna and Castiel's dissention, both Sam and Dean would be dead," Bobby shot back.

"No, I'm saying that Cas and Anna _had_ to go against orders in order to do the right thing, Bobby. I'm glad they had doubts."

"Wait a second…" Bobby held his hands up. "You're _happy_ with the dissention?"

"This is not my Father's doing," Scarlett assured him adamantly with a shake of her head.

"The angels take their orders from _somewhere_."

"In the chain of command, yes," she concurred. "But I think the chain of command is broken somewhere."

"So you think God isn't giving the orders?" The hunter asked to clarify, his anger rapidly dissipating.

"I don't think He is." She placed her left arm on the table and propped up her chin with her palm. "My brother was the messiah, not me. I'm the failsafe. I was born because a run at the Apocalypse was being made. If He wanted to bring on the End of Days, why bother creating me?"

His shoulders slumped out of their tensed state as his forearms rested on the maple surface. "So… we don't have heaven to back us up anymore?"

"We're going to have angels on our side. I just…" Scarlett nibbled on her lower lip. "I just don't know how many.

"Is Castiel working on it?"

"Yes, Anna too."

Bobby nodded slowly. "And what about the boys? Do they know?"

She shook her head, her blonde locks swinging with it. "I only found out earlier today. I take it Castiel's going to tell him shortly, if he hasn't already."

"I don't pity the man who wakes up Dean Winchester."

"He's not going to wake him up…" Scarlett glanced down at her hands. "Same way he told me."

Bobby cocked an eyebrow at her, no clue as to how Castiel would be speaking to Dean. Then it dawned on him and he grimaced. "Oh… so it's Nightmare at Singer's Salvage Yard?"

A laugh escaped her lips. "Something like that, just without the claws."

Bobby's head dipped again and he glanced over at the clock on the microwave. "Damn, five a.m. already. I gotta get some sleep. I'm too old for this crap."

"So am I," Scarlett agreed, continuing to chuckle. "But we're going to put an end to this Apocalypse bullshit, so you won't have to deal with this as long as I've had to."

He grabbed his nearly empty beer bottle and raised it to the notion, then downed the remains. After standing, he tossed it into the garbage. "I'll see ya in the mornin'. Get a few hours if you can. We've got shit to do tomorrow."

"I'll try," she answered to his fleeting form and listened as the dull thuds on the ceiling above her grew softer before they ceased altogether. "I'll try."

With a sigh, the blonde reached for her own bottle. For the next hour, she nursed it slowly, picking at the label between sips until it had been completely peeled off the glass and the shreds lay in a heap on the table.

She thought over her conversation with Bobby. Whatever heaviness on her heart had gone away at the tail end of their discussion was back again. Two hundred and sixty years of the two-hundred and seventy-six years she had been alive had been spent fighting demons. Bobby thought that spending thirty-five years hunting the supernatural was ridiculous. Two hundred and sixty made her downright pathetic. And what did she have to show for it?

Numerous law degrees, a body without flaws, and the Apocalypse on the horizon.

Not to mention, she'd spent the overwhelming majority of the time completely alone. Even if Lucifer could be stopped, they had no idea what the cost would be. Would she be alive to see the years of paradise? And if she did, would Sam and Dean? Would Bobby? The thought of spending eternity without either of the Winchesters around was depressing. Despite their flaws, they were good people, and the first people she could call friends in many years.

As soon as that thought crept in her head, she realized that even if they did make it out alive and in one piece, they would settle down somewhere. With someone. And she'd be alone until the end of time… _again_.

"If you don't stop Lucifer, it won't matter."

Scarlett jumped in surprise at the sound of the feminine voice, the bottle clamoring across the table. "You really shouldn't do that when people aren't looking, Anna."

She nodded apologetically and stopped the bottle with her hand. "Sorry. I've gotten used to sneaking around."

"So I've noticed," the blonde retorted, standing to pluck the glass from beneath her palm, and threw it into the trash. "Is there a reason you're here?"

"Castiel is speaking with Dean," the crimson-haired angel informed her. "I thought it would be nice to make the trip with him and see you again."

Scarlett briskly made her way from the kitchen to the den. "Retaining your humanity, I see."

Anna followed her inside. "It is difficult not to. I now possess the ability to _miss_ someone."

"I'm flattered." The blonde rolled her eyes as she sat down on the couch.

"Ahh, sarcasm. Or should I say… 'scarcasm?'" Anna laughed to herself, plopping onto the open cushion. "By the way, I notice you've been teaching Cas. He's really improving."

Scarlett's lips showed the slightest hint of a smile. "Just make sure he doesn't show off to the rest of the garrison."

"I'll do my best." Anna reached up to tuck a lock of hair behind her right ear. "So how are things with Sam and Dean?"

"Aww, Anna…" The woman's nose crinkled uncomfortably. "Don't do that."

"What?" The angel shrugged.

"Try and have girl talk with me. It's… weird." The redhead smiled in amusement. "Is something funny?"

"You used to tell me things before I possessed human emotions, but now that I'm capable of understanding, you don't want to?" An eyebrow arched on her porcelain skin. "That just seems ridiculous."

"Look, Anna." Scarlett turned her body to face her, a leg resting on the couch. "I've been human for a lot longer than you have, okay? So I know when you ask me about the Winchesters, it's not because you're wondering if we're playing nice."

Anna chuckled again, must to Scarlett's chagrin. It was hard to comprehend because of the amount of time they'd spent together before she fell, but while the woman before her was _still_ an angel, she also had the emotional maturity of a nineteen-year-old. "So indulge me. I never got to have many girl talks as a human."

The blonde sighed heavily at Anna's enthusiasm, but soon relented. "Okay, okay. But as soon as I get weirded out, I'm drawing the line. What do you want to talk about?"

Anna rested her elbow against the back of the sofa and pressed the heel of her palm to her chin. "Let's talk about Sam first."

"Sam?" Scarlett's eyebrows rose. She had been certain that her one-night stand with Dean would have brought on an onslaught of questions about him first. "You want to know about Sam?" The angel nodded. "What do you want to know?"

Her shoulders bounced. "What do you think of him?"

The immortal human paused to contemplate an answer. "He's a good guy, despite what most of Heaven seems to think."

Anna brushed a few stray strands of hair out of her eyes. "So you don't think he's evil?"

She shook her head. "Not at all. I think he was manipulated by Ruby when he was the most vulnerable and that he was born into unfortunate lineage, but I don't think he was, is, or ever will be evil."

"I see a lot of his mother in him…" she stated. "Well, from what I remember seeing before I lost my grace."

"He's such a good guy, Anna. He's smart and compassionate…" she trailed off, mentally searching for more of his traits. "And he has a sense of loyalty I wish that most other humans had."

The angel's lips thinned into a smile. "You sound very much alike, no wonder you get along so well."

"Was that… a compliment?"

"Yes, it was!" Anna boasted excitedly. "I told you I've got this whole human thing down. Although, Dean Winchester helped me out a little bit…"

And there was the line. "Anna!"

"Right, sorry." Her mouth twitched in embarrassment. "But while we're on the subject of Dean, I'm surprised you haven't needed to heal him yet."

"Are you accusing me of being violent?"

"No, I'm accusing him of being infuriating."

This time, it was Scarlett who was laughing. "We butted heads the first few days. Before he found out who I was… and _what_ I was… he was in typical womanizer mode."

"I remember that," Anna mumbled. "And after?"

"I think he was pretty pissed, but I would be too if I were in his shoes," she admitted. "He's lost a lot. You and Cas were the only angels who didn't screw him over."

"Cas says you're getting along again."

"Well, I took a bullet for him and I didn't exactly heal that fast, either," Scarlett chortled. "I kind of earned it."

The flame-haired woman agreed, "And Cas telling him about your parents and Andrew probably didn't hurt either."

"He _what_?" her voice dropped to a deadly low.

"Anna!" Castiel snapped at her, appearing behind the couch.

"I take it you didn't know," she told the now-fuming Scarlett and then turned to glance at her male counterpart. "I take it she didn't know."

Castiel's teeth ground together and Scarlett noted just how _human_ he had become in the last month. Swallowing a deep gulp of air, he faced his charge. "I didn't want you to relive it again after you'd already told Sam. I understand how painful it was just to talk about it again."

She folded her arms over her chest. "So you decided to tell Dean and figured that when he brought it up, I'd figure it out?"

"No, that was not it at all," he replied, attempting to rectify the situation. "I truly wanted to just spare you the pain, Scarlett. It was my only intention."

"And while your intention, in theory, _was_ noble, Castiel," she began and he cringed at the sound of his full name. Like a parent speaking to a child, Scarlett's lack of use of his nickname only indicated anger. "It would have been much appreciated if you _told_ me what your intentions were. If it weren't for Anna, I would have found out the wrong way. Or worse, Dean would actually pity me enough to walk around me on eggshells." She groaned in disgust. "And that's the last thing I need."

"I assure you, he will not use refuse for shoes." Castiel walked around the couch until he stood directly in front of the blonde while the redhead suppressed a snicker. "And you will not find pity in Dean Winchester, Scarlett. You will only find empathy and understanding."

His charge ran a hand over her face and exhaled her breath. "So this was your way of forcing us to bond?"

"I was merely trying to eliminate the enmity between you and Dean," Castiel explained further. "He does not realize that you are just as human as he is; that you've experienced love and loss like he and Sam have."

She leaned back until her straight blonde locks were matted against the tan fabric of the upholstered furniture. "If you decide to tell them something about me again, just let me know. It's what we humans refer to as courtesy."

Her protector's eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he contemplated the meaning of the word his charge had just used. "Courtesy?" He asked, to which Scarlett nodded. "Courtesy," he repeated, trying to digest the word and interpret its meaning.

As the angel thought it over some more, Anna noticed the human's drooping eyelids and the yawn that escaped her mouth. "Come on, Cas. I'll explain it to you on the way back. Scarlett looks like she could use some sleep."

"Very well. We will return from our travels tomorrow evening," Castiel said, turning his attention away from his vocabulary lesson for a moment. However, the lapse was brief. "And we shall work on this concept you call _courtesy_ shortly."

Scarlett stood from the sofa and rubbed her eyes sleepily, yawning once more. "I'll be in Sam's…" she began to reply, but found that both Anna and Castiel had disappeared. "Room."

Sighing again, the blonde made her way to the slightly dusty wooden stairs and slowly trekked upwards. Unfortunately, throughout all of the bickering about sleeping arrangements, she had neglected to ask which room belonged to which hunter.

There were two doors on her right, two on her left, and one directly ahead of her. Almost three hundred years of history in her head, she chalked up the furthest room as the master bedroom, meaning that belonged to Bobby. So that left two guest rooms, a linen closet, and a bathroom to find.

Figuring she would try the room next to the stairs, Scarlett reached for the doorknob and pushed it open as quietly as she could. While there _was_ a body in the bed, the amulet around its neck clearly gave the occupant away. Before she could pull the door shut, however, a book dangling from Dean's hand caught her eye. Taking a step into the room, she identified the leather-bound notebook as John's journal, which he had showed her in passing upon their first night in a motel room.

The papers and other items that had been inserted between the pages were threatening to fall and scatter amongst the carpet beside Dean's boots. As soundlessly as she could, Scarlett crept towards the bed and reached for the journal. Yet, the moment her slender fingers grasped the worn leather, Dean's right hand shot across his body and gripped tightly onto her wrist.

Suddenly, she found his emerald eyes locked on her and she hesitantly met them with her hazel ones. "I-I'm sorry," she whispered. "I thought everything inside was going to fall out."

Dean released his hold on her arm and she removed hers from John's notes, allowing him to place the now-closed book on the nightstand. "What were you doing in here?"

"I was looking for Sam. He told me I could share a bed with him," she started, subconsciously rubbing her flesh where Dean's strong grasp had once been. "I was going to shut the door when I noticed your dad's journal. I knew you'd be mad if it got messed up."

"Thanks," he mumbled, the blanket around him drifting lower as he rose to a sitting position.

She looked away from him instantly. "You're welcome." Mentally, she kicked herself. Hadn't she noticed he was shirtless before?

Dean took note of her fingers kneading her own skin. "Did I… did I hurt you?"

She shook her head and allowed herself to look at him again. What was _wrong_ with her? Exhaustion. That had to be it. She'd wake up in the afternoon and would be able to behave like a normal human being around him again. "I'll be okay."

"I didn't mean to…"

"It's fine, Dean," she assured him and began to back up towards the door. "Go back to bed. I'll, uh… I'll see you in the afternoon."

"Right." He nodded as she disappeared beyond his view. "See you."

* * *

**A/N: Like I said, I brought back a familiar face... and I did so in the form of Anna. In the next chapter, you might not see familiar faces, so much as familiar voices. You'll see what I mean.**

**Tonight's episode was amazing. I mean, TWO Dean Winchesters? *******SPOILER ALERT AHEAD*****

**First of all, is it just me, or does Jensen's voice get deeper with every single episode? I mean, five years in the future… Dean's voice is like a freaking subwoofer. Not that I'm complaining or anything.**

**And on the subject of future Dean, he scares the shit out of me. Seriously, he does. I guess that is what losing Sam does to him.**

**Onto Sam… how fantastic was Jared as Lucifer!Sam? I normally think that Jensen is the more versatile of the two, and while he did shine during his showdown with Lucifer, Jared absolutely held his own. Kudos, boys. Kudos.**

**And Zachariah… you're still a douche. **

**Stoned Castiel in the car was amazing. It comes pretty close to human, badass Cas. "We had an appointment." Deadpanned. Love it.**

**Don't get me wrong, I'm still in awe of Castiel the BAMF. I've noticed how much more human he seems and from the short clip I was able to watch that was online, he only continues to become more so. Hence why Scarlett notes that, as well. Although, it's kind of funny… Dean teaches Castiel about lying, Scarlett teaches him about courtesy. Is that fitting or what?**

**Oh… and least I forget…**

_**THEY'RE BACK TOGETHER! AND I CAN GET MY WEEKLY DOSE OF SAM AND DEAN AGAIN!**_

*****END SPOILERS*****

**On another note, I just wanted to thank you all for coming out in droves to review the last chapter. ELEVEN reviews are just absolutely flattering beyond belief. In your next review, could you please tell me what you think of how I'm portraying each character? I think I'm doing alright with Sam and Dean, but Bobby, Castiel, and Anna worry me slightly. And per usual, I'm concerned that Scarlett is a Mary-Sue. But I'm always worried about that.**

**Anyway, SHOUT OUTS!**

**Lois87 – **Thank you. I'm glad that I'm keeping you hooked. I sometimes get afraid that I'm dragging. Thanks for the assurance I'm not!

**Nehasupnfan – **Misha is pulling out all the stops this year. I hope that Sam being Lucifer's vessel doesn't come true either. I'm hoping it doesn't come down to Sam vs. Dean, but Kripke did say the brothers are going to come back together again and heal their rifts. So I'm positive about that. And that you!

**Lemonwedges4 – **I was nearly in tears. The Impala line… I'm telling you. Thanks for the compliments about last chapter. I hope you enjoyed this one too.

**AnnabelleLee13194 – **Please, if I were the fan girl, I'd be all over Dean like black paint on the Impala. And I wouldn't have been a creeper. A girl can only dream, right? And I did NOT know that was a restaurant in Universal! How coincidental! Do they have good pie?

**PATDfan2012 – **Thank you so much! I'm glad you like the idea. Sometimes, I look at the car and it takes a while to realize she's actually mine. But the reaction of the guys I drive past are priceless. I thought I was going to get in trouble on my campus for where I was parked when a guy tapped on my window who worked for my college. Turns out, he just wanted to compliment the car. Lol.

**Lady Ravynne – **I love analytical reviews. You made my DAY! I try to think what Bobby would say and keep it as true to his vocabulary as I can. I'm glad the line Scarlett walks between divinity and humanity is not lost on my readers. I couldn't convince my parents to co-sign on a '67, so I settled for the '10. She's a lot louder than the '08, which I REALLY enjoy. So do my friends. Haha. I loved the idea of Castiel in a whorehouse. I mean, what's not to love? He tries to ease the girl's guilt… and winds up pissing her off. Oh, how I love Cas this season. I'll definitely be checking out your fic as soon as I have the time this weekend. If your story writing is as good as your reviews, I'm sure I won't be disappointed. And yes, those are the travails of writing. I actually have a one-shot gnawing at me in the back of my head. It's going to be called "Last Name." The summary: Of all the stupid things Dean Winchester has done in his life, this one takes the cake. It's going to be set sometime in Season 3, more toward the middle, I think. But I'll see. Maybe I'll save that for Thanksgiving break. Who knows? Anyway, thanks for the review!

**Klandgraf2007 – **Oh, if I missed you, I'm sorry. It happens sometimes… especially late at night. I apologize. And because of that, I'm going to drop a few spoilers. I'll try and do that a little more often if I can. On the voices I referred to earlier, I can confirm that Jo will be one of them and she will NOT be happy Dean and Sam are currently traveling with a girl that isn't her. Also, I will note that Castiel and Anna will be providing her, and her mother, with the means of speaking to the brothers and Bobby. How was that for you?

**Artemis of the Storm Riders** – I am absolutely, 100 percent flattered with all of your compliments. I know that writing a child of God, other than Jesus, is somewhat controversial. I had a reader early on who was none too pleased with that. But I'm happy to know there are other readers who enjoy that little twist. I try to avoid making her as Mary-Sue as possible. I know, I know… I harp on that point a lot, but it really is a major concern for me. I like to think of her as taking Sam under her wing. And her relationship with Dean is just starting to complicate itself.

**Midnight LeAnn – **I have half a mind to hunt down Kripke and ask. It's hard to speculate. I don't _want_ to speculate, either. I want answers! Haha. But I will let you know if/when I find out. Glad you liked the chapter!

**Angelofthenight – **Thanks. Researching the 1700's was rough, especially when it came to the dresses. I just always pictured Andrew with a buzzed head, it's kind of hard to explain why. I really have no idea. So I had to throw in the bout with head lice and it wound up serving a double purpose, the other being to demonstrate he had knowledge of her powers. Well, most of them. You're not the first person to suggest a Sam/Scarlett pairing. Maybe in some freaky nightmare sequence or something. But hey… you never know, I guess.

**Mellie91 – **Thanks! I hope you enjoy this one. Let me know what you think!

**Thanks again for the reviews and enjoy tonight's Supernatural episode if you haven't already… and Lucifer!Sam too!**

**By the way, if you get the chance… there's a mashup of AC/DC's "Back in Black" and Kanye West's "Jesus Walks" floating around that I came across a few days ago. It really is fitting for the boys. I highly recommend it.**

**Peace, Love, and the Metallicar,**

**Danielle**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: **Please excuse any/all typos. I've been up all night. Damn Winchester muses.

* * *

Sam's green eyes pried open and instantly, he was thankful that he'd thought to close the blinds before he fell asleep. The sun seeping through the gaps of the window shade was strong enough as it was.

He glanced over at the digital clock on the nightstand at the edge of the bed, which read 2:31pm. With a yawn, he mentally did the math and came to the conclusion he'd slept a little over ten hours, the longest he had done in a while. Well, the longest he could remember anyway.

The hunter moved to turn over and bury his head back into his pillow, but caught sight of a body on the other side of the bed, curled up underneath the blanket. Sam chuckled quietly and reached out to shake her gently.

The blonde groaned and tossed, turning over to face him. "Five more minutes."

"What are you, ten?" Sam laughed and placed a hand on her right bicep. "It's already two thirty. What time did you fall asleep?"

Her eyes remained tightly clenched. "I don't know."

"Okay…" Sam continued to be amused by her behavior. "Let's take a different direction. What time did you come to bed?"

She reached up to rub her eyes as she yawned. "Six thirty, I think."

"That's about eight hours," he informed her, now resting on his side. "Not bad."

"More than I've had in a while," she mumbled back, still fighting off sleep. Sam burst out laughing yet again. "Stop it…" she whined.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Sam gave his best attempt to muster an apology. "It's just hard to take you seriously when your eyes are closed."

Her hazel orbs fluttered open in response and she scowled at him. "Better?"

"And I thought that me waking you up would be a lot more pleasant that when Dean does," he mused, a smile still playing on his lips.

She sighed and nodded. "I would have reached for my gun already." At this comment, Sam lost whatever control he had over his laughter. Frowning, she reached over and pulled the blanket off of the younger Winchester's body and brought it to her chest. "You know what, next time… send in Dean to wake me up. I'll take my chances."

Sam snorted and rose from the bed, rubbing at his eyes. "Suit yourself, but he'll just lift the mattress and let you fall."

Scarlett glanced up at him, in only a pair of boxers. Apparently, he had gotten over his fear of being partially clothed in front of her. As her eyes landed on the tattoo over his heart that matched his brother's, she was transported to the night before.

She remembered accidentally stumbling upon Dean and the notebook dangling from his fingers that was barely visible in the silhouette of the moonlight, but slightly more in the little sliver of yellow escaping from the hallway. Her eyes had focused on it and she found herself drawn into the room. Subconsciously, she rubbed her wrist as the memory washed over again. The way he had latched onto her wrist like he was holding on for dear life and how the only things she could see were the outline of his body, the contour of each muscle filled in by the darkness, and his eyes; the emerald pigment of his irises illuminated as he clung to her, head slightly turned to catch her reaction.

Shock was the one emotion she could recall feeling at the time. Then she realized feeling was much too light of a word. It hadn't been a passing emotion, it had been an all consuming one. But Scarlett wasn't sure whether it had been because she had just been caught off-guard or something else.

And there it was: the elephant that wasn't necessarily in the room, but more so in her head. His entire torso had been on display and she'd found herself speechless, a rare occurrence for her.

She'd been too tired to contemplate it before when she had left the room, but it had to be addressed now. It wasn't like she could avoid him for the rest of the day; she had to see him sooner or later. Although later was preferred.

As Sam pulled on a pair of jeans and attempted to hunt down his belt, her eyes studied him. He was equally as shirtless at the moment as his brother had been the night before and she hadn't been rendered mute at the sight of him. It wasn't as though Sam didn't have equally as impressive of a body as his older brother and she had always liked taller men. Her eyes narrowed in thought.

The woman had seen Sam half-naked before, on the first night the three hunters had spent in a motel together. And after that night, Scarlett had begun to share a friendship with him that was reminiscent of a brother and a sister.

The corners of her mouth twitched in satisfaction. She considered Sam to be like a brother, which would explain her lack of appreciation for his physique. Then again, it also explained her surprise at the exposed Dean Winchester, whom she had never seen without a shirt before. That had to be her answer.

The door opened without warning as Sam fumbled with his belt. Sure enough, the man in question in Scarlett's mind was leaning against the doorframe, dressed in a long-sleeved thermal with the top four buttons left open.

"Channeling Fabio, are we?" Scarlett mused sarcastically, a smirk plastered on her face. Internally, she breathed a sigh of relief. Clearly, her conclusion thirty seconds before had been right.

Dean glanced downward at the shirt and folded his arms over his chest. "Well, I guess I pale in comparison to Sammy here, whose model _was_ Fabio on the cover of Chuck's books." He returned her smirk and turned his gaze towards his brother, adjusting his belt buckle. "Have a good night there, Sam?"

His eyes squinted at him. "Bite me."

"Her job," Dean retorted as he pointed at the blonde. "Not mine."

"Ugh," Her face contorted in disgust. "Screw you, Winchester."

"In your dreams."

Despite the fact that the very exchange caused her mind to swim with thoughts of punching him in his face, Scarlett was satisfied with the return to normality that she was experiencing around Dean. In fact, it was almost reassuring.

She arched an eyebrow. "Only in yours."

Sam rolled his eyes at the two and pulled a blue tee shirt over his head. "Do you smell that?"

"What, sex?" Dean cocked his head to the side and internally laughed as Scarlett shuddered.

"No…" Sam shook his head, huffing. "I smell charcoal and burgers."

"Burgers?" Dean's head snapped back into its normal position. "You think?"

"Yeah. I thi-" His younger brother nodded and the older Winchester rushed out the door, barely even closing it behind him. Then he laughed. "Man, he's _so_ easy."

Scarlett joined him in laughing as she peeled herself out of bed in search of some clothes. "Thanks for defending my honor. You're my hero."

"I try." Sam smiled at her and began to attempt to reassemble the bed, despite the fact she was in it. "Dean can barely resist food as it is, put a freshly grilled burger on his mind and he's as good as gone."

"I'll have to remember that."

The much taller hunter stacked the pillows at the head of the bed. "You know, this is kind of your cue to get up."

"Is it?" Her head tilted to the side and she sighed, beginning to peel herself out of bed. "That's rather unfortunate. Remind me to thank your brother for being a bullet magnet that screws up my sleep schedule."

"How did he manage to do _that_?" Sam questioned with a snort as he smoothed down the comforter.

She temporarily froze, forgetting she hadn't told Sam about the events of the early hours of the morning. "Oh…" she trailed off, her brain working on overdrive. "You know, the whole being dizzy after taking a bullet for him thing. Damn nap in the car is going to take me a week to correct."

Sam nodded and Scarlett exhaled a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "You picked the right people to be sleepless around. We're pretty used to it."

"I'm going to grab a shower," Scarlett decided, leveling the blanket on her side of the bed and heading for her duffel bag beside the nightstand. Once she grabbed a change of clothes, she looked back up at her friend. "Dean knows the plan for today. He'll tell you and Bobby."

"There's a _plan_?" Sam looked slightly surprised at the idea and then it waned from his face. "Let me guess, Castiel?" he asked, to which she affirmed with a bob of her head. "Alright, you shower then. Something tells me this is going to take a while."

* * *

"GET… OUT!"

The thunderous words echoed off the walls of the house and reverberated through the kitchen. Or maybe it was the thud of a body crashing into a wall. Either way, Dean found it hysterical.

A sigh was heard in the corner of the room and the three men turned to find Anna sitting on a countertop, legs dangling over the cabinets. "That will be another hour of explanations tonight."

Dean's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, matching the expressions on the faces of his brother and Bobby. "Anna? What are you doing here?"

"When Cas and I finished our assignment, we were to meet here," she explained, placing her hands on the edges of the mica. "But I think he wished to speak with Scarlett first."

"Hold on a second," Bobby cut into the conversation. "You decided that the appropriate meeting place would be my kitchen?"

"Well, not so much your kitchen as your house," she clarified, looking over at Bobby. "But I suppose they are one and the same."

There was a slight stirring noise in the air and then a monotonous voice cut through it yet again. "That was quite unexpected."

Anna looked over at her fellow angel, who was now standing behind the older Winchester. "When you said you wanted to speak with Scarlett, I assumed you would pick a time in which she was not in the shower."

Dean's head tilted to the left as he leaned on the table with his forearms. "You poofed in on here in the bathroom?"

"I suppose you could refer to it as that."

The corner of the hunter's mouth twitched in amusement. "Was she naked?"

Sam promptly punched him in the arm. "Dean!"

"What?" he replied innocently, eyebrows shooting towards the ceiling. "It's a relevant detail…"

"Why on _Earth_ is that relevant?"

"Accuracy." Dean shrugged and then looked back at Castiel. "So was she?"

Without hesitation, Casiel answered, "Yes."

Anna promptly smacked her palm against her forehead. "Cas, you can't do that."

"Cas, you sly bastard," Dean hooted as he stood and clapped a hand on his shoulder. "I didn't know you had it in you."

The angel's head cocked to the side. "Possessed what in me?"

The older Winchester laughed, "It's just an expression, Cas."

"Like sarcasm?"

"Sort of." He nodded and sat back down, still chuckling to himself. "Dude, she owned you up there."

"God damn plaster fell from the ceiling," Bobby grumbled to no one in particular. "Could have ruined my traps."

"Scarlett is not in ownership of myself and I assure you, if you ask, she will fix the plaster."

"Good," Bobby continued his sulking.

"But you will not be in here much longer," Castiel stated simply. "Anna and I have extended your safe haven so that it will be large enough for you in the coming days."

Anna interred in the conversation as to prevent any confusion. "You will remain in the room for 48 hours, after which you," he turned to Bobby, "Will remain until it is time to lay siege."

"Lay siege?" Sam asked in surprise. "Lay siege on _what_?"

"Lucifer's cave," she answered, hopping off the counter. "On the thirtieth day, you must fight his army to gain access to the cave. As soon as he is free, after midnight, you MUST kill him."

"Dean must kill him," Castiel corrected.

"So expect the three of us," Dean began, shaking his head incredulously, "And Scarlett to fight the devil's army by ourselves. Are you _high_?"

"Why would I partake in recreational drug use?"

Anna sighed, "An expression, Cas."

"Ah, yes." He nodded and then continued. "But you will not be alone. Anna and I have visited all of the hunters we could find. They know the Apocalypse is nigh and after a great amount of convincing, have agreed to partake in a… what is it called, Anna?"

"A conference call." Her lips twitched in amusement. "They will all call the phone we have placed in your panic room with a cell phone we have given each of them and do not worry, we have taken every precaution to ensure only a hunter will be able to take part in the call."

"It's like a virtual convention with whiskey and guns," Dean noted. "Except I don't get a happy ending…"

"Gross," a voice groaned from the doorway.

"Scarlett," Dean returned. "It's nice to see you are clothed."

"Don't worry," she retorted effortlessly. "You'll never get to see me without them anyway."

"Never say never…"

Anna rolled her eyes. "I think there are more pressing matters here. You are to lock yourselves in the panic room until we say."

"So what…" Dean folded his arms over his chest and leaned back. "We're just supposed to have a little gossip session and they'll all be on board?"

"No, I know better than that," Scarlett answered, despite the question being directed to the angels. "Castiel and Anna have explained that I exist. You just have to convince them that I know what I'm doing… that the _angels _know what they're doing."

"I think I'd rather be crucified."

"No, you wouldn't," Castiel deadpanned. "You have three hours."

And with one's final word, both angels vanished.

* * *

Bobby watched as much of his weapons stockpile and all of his book cases flew past the salted threshold. "I feel like I'm in Mary Poppins."

For the last two hours and forty minutes, Scarlett and the three men had stockpiled the room. Well, she had used her telekinesis to make the newly-expanded room feel like home.

The work of the angels had been quite impressive. The room looked exactly the same, only three times the size. The Devil's Trap was just as large as the ceiling, as it had previously been, only it had grown proportionately. It was as though someone had clicked the scale buttoned and upped it from one hundred percent to three hundred.

"So how is this supposed to work?" Dean asked out of the blue.

The blonde's head whirled around and her eyes landed on the older Winchester. "They're just going to call, Dean. You'll know of most of them, met a lot of them, even. They were purposely picked that way."

He took a few steps forward and scratched the spot just above his ear. "I have no idea what the hell I'm going to say to them."

"Look," she sighed, sliding her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. "I really don't know what to tell you. I mean, Castiel had to do the talking for me when it came to telling you and Sam."

"Thanks for the help, Scarlett," he returned sarcastically and moved to walk away from her, his body now facing the opposite direction.

"Hey." She reached out and grasped onto his exposed forearm, causing him to swivel around. "I wasn't finished."

As his body rotated, Dean's emerald eyes fell on her face curiously and then lowered to the spot where their skin met. "Okay."

Scarlett pulled her hand away quickly. "The hardest part is over. They're convinced that angels exist. Just convince them that I do too."

"It was a lot easier when I saw you turn water into beer," he replied, folding his arms over his chest cockily.

"Well, as good as I am, I can't be in fifty places at once, Winchester." Scarlett managed to force out a smile, albeit a wary one, and Dean felt himself relax a small amount. Noting the stress in his rigid shoulders, she quickly added, "I can't make any promises. But I'll try and figure out something."

"Thanks." He nodded appreciatively and then took two steps back towards where Bobby was checking his bookcase. "I'm going to uh…" He glanced over his shoulder. "I'm going to talk to Bobby and see if he can think of anything. Fifteen minutes?"

Dean's back was already facing the blonde by the time she opened her mouth to reply. "Yeah," she sighed. "Fifteen minutes."

* * *

The fifteen minutes had passed slower than any amount of time any of the four could recently remember. It was torturous; not knowing if they could pull off the single greatest last-ditch effort to save the world. Hunters were the most skeptical people on the planet and now, they – scratch that, _Dean_ _-_ had the task of convincing somewhere around fifty of them that Heaven, God, and an immortal daughter of the Lord exists.

They stood around the circular table that held the phone, staring at anything but each other. Occasionally, Scarlett would catch Sam's nervous eye and she would flash him her best attempt at a smile, despite the fact that she wasn't really sure if everything would be okay or not. It was the best she could do at the moment.

Most importantly, she refused to look at Dean. They spent ninety percent of the day fighting with each other, slinging insults in an attempt to make the other miserable and usually, they succeeded. The sliver of the day that remained was the part that always surprised her, usually consisting of some sort of insight into his head or her giving a peek into her own mind. It shocked her how forthcoming she was sometimes with him, considering how much easier his younger brother was to talk to. Baring her soul to Sam was guaranteed to be met with understanding in some form. Doing so with Dean was more of a gamble and she never knew whether he'd make a snide remark or shock her with compassion.

But right now, as they hovered around the phone, Scarlett didn't want to chance seeing a look on his face she didn't know how to react to. She didn't wear speechlessness well and he didn't wear his emotions well, either.

Dean's cell phone vibrated on the table and he picked it up. She couldn't help but look at him then and instantly, as he silenced it and allowed his emerald orbs to fall on her, she regretted it. "Make the call."

Silently, the blonde nodded and placed her right hand over the keypad. Focusing, she closed her eyes as the group returned to silence. A few moments later, they popped open and settled on Dean. She nodded and mouthed, _Go ahead_.

"Hello?" he asked tentatively, pausing to see if he'd get any response at all.

"Angels, Dean?" a feminine voice snapped at him loudly through the speaker. "The end of the world is here and you send us _angels_? What the hell?"

Dean immediately froze. He'd know that voice anywhere. "Jo?"

Scarlett watched as Sam's face turned ten shades of gray and green as he leaned over onto his hands, pressed against the surface of the table for support. _Jo_, she thought to herself. She recognized that name. _Jo… Harvelle,_ it snapped right into her head as though it had been there all along. _Duluth_ was the next word that came to mind and she realized it had. No wonder Sam looked like he was about to keel over any second.

Her hand slid across the polished wood and rested on top of his lightly, curling around his much larger one to give an assuring squeeze. _She knows._ She formed the words on her lips without speaking a sound. _And she understands._

Sam bobbed his head in comprehension. Now, he was only seven different shades.

"Of course it's me," Jo retorted bitterly. "Did you really think I wouldn't be the first person waiting in line to rip you a new one?"

Dean laughed nervously. "Is this about me not calling you?"

"We're _so_ past that being your primary offense, Winchester," her voice crackled over the speaker.

"Listen, lady…" a young man cut in. "I'm sure you and Dean here got issues… but I'm pretty damn sure the rest of us have bigger ones."

"Pipsqueak, don't start with me or I'll hunt you down myself," Jo retorted with a huff, followed by a muffled _"Joanna Beth!"_

"Michael, knock it off with the Harvelle girl," a deep voice chided him. "She ain't nowhere near Wisconsin. I just saw her yesterday."

"Rufus!" The young blonde exclaimed in frustration and Dean glanced over at Bobby.

Then Dean's head snapped back towards the phone. "Wait, Michael… Wisconsin… are you that kid from the motel in Fitchburg? The one with the Striga?"

"You mean the one that helped kick its ass? Yeah, it's me."

"Damn," Dean whispered lowly and shook his head in disappointment. He knew that Michael had lost his innocence when it came to monsters five years ago, but he'd never expected him to turn to the hunt. Now, he regretted it even more.

"What is it that you have to say, Dean?" another man spoke up, whom Sam recognized as Joshua, a contact of their father's who hadn't been heard from in five years.

"Right, well…" Dean cleared his throat. "Either Castiel or Anna paid you a visit last night, so I'm guessing you know angels exist. I'm sure they told you about the issues going on upstairs, so I'm going to get straight to the point. We're pretty much all that's left. Wehave a plan. It's risky, but it's all we've got."

"And who is this _we_ that you speak of?" another former contact of John's, by the name of Jefferson, asked.

"Me, my brother, Sam, Bobby Singer, and…" Dean trailed off and his eyes settled on the lone woman in the room. "Scarlett Lucas."

The whole group paused for a beat. Joshua spoke first. "That lawyer woman?"

"Lawyer _woman?_" the younger Harvelle woman repeated incredulously and Dean fought back his laughter.

Rufus clearly shared his amusement. "Jo, that woman's gotta be in her sixties by now. How you doing, Miss Lucas?"

"I'm fine, considering the circumstances, Mr. Turner," the woman replied warmly. "How about you?"

"How 'bout that?" he answered. "You sound exactly the same as you did when you were twenty-nine years old!"

Scarlett took a deep breath. "That's because I still am twenty-nine, Rufus. Or at least, physically, I am."

There was a deafening silence on the line and when Rufus finally spoke, his voice was deathly low, "Winchester, so help me God…"

"Don't take her father's name in vain," Dean interred. "It really pisses her off."

"Never took her as a Jesus freak," another man chimed in.

"She isn't. Shut up, Creedy," Jefferson ordered the man. "I just saw Scarlett in April," he explained to no one in particular. "And she looked like she was about that age."

"That's not _possible_."

Sam tilted his head in the direction of the phone as if to push her forward. "She still looks like that now."

"Bobby?" Rufus addressed his fellow hunter. "Is that true?"

"Yeah, s'true."

Michael's unabashed curiosity got the best of him. "So… what _are _you?"

The forty-five hunters who had remained silent listeners remained that way and the other five joined them. Unnerved by the quiet, Scarlett spoke, "I'm the child of God."

* * *

Scarlett stared at the phone in utter soundlessness from her seat against the wall, still shocked by what had transpired in the last two hours. Not only was her secret now out there, to more than the three other people in the room, they actually believed her. Granted, it had taken more than an hour and a few tricks on her part, but still, they knew the truth.

And they knew the plan: spend the next twenty-five days doing what they did best, hunting the things that went bump in the night. At seven pm on that twenty-fifth day, they had to be in Ilchester, Maryland to meet with Heaven's army. Until then, it was business as usual. Well, business as usual for them, anyway.

"I still can't believe you sent Jo all those spiders," Sam laughed heartily, knocking Scarlett back into reality. She flung an orange at him in response, causing him to duck so that it whizzed by his ear and landed against the iron panels with a dull thud. Picking it up off the floor, he held it in his palm for a moment, deciding what to do.

Dean and Bobby, who were previously busy scanning the bookcases off to the side of the room, had turned towards the source of the noise and were now watching the scene in front of them unfold with unabashed curiosity.

Sam's eyes shifted back to Scarlett and he half-smiled, throwing the fruit back at her. The blonde stopped it in mid-air before it connected with the wall she was leaning against. It hung, suspended beside her head, as she stared at him intently. She shook her head at him and placed her hands underneath her outstretched legs for emphasis. Then she sent the orange back his way and he caught it with his left hand.

Emerald eyes looked back up at her from the orange sphere as it rested in his hand. Her hazel orbs softened as she flashed him a reassuring smile and a slow nod of encouragement.

The hunter felt the weight of his older brother's eyes studying him, as well as a second pair he reasoned could only belong to Bobby. Both were likely afraid; afraid he'd return to his previous behavior at the price of demon blood running through his veins. But somehow, this felt different.

His eyes traveled back to his hand, but shifted slightly downward to his wrist in which the blue of his veins peeked out from the tanned flesh of his skin. Sam knew that his own blood was pumping through his body, the blood he shared with his brother; a combination of his father's and his mother's. Yet, there was also Scarlett's blood mixed in with his own. _Sangreal, _he thought to himself. _Royal blood._

However, there was still the chance that a few drops of something else was present, something that belonged to someone else he did not care about or trust. Someone he had hurt for the greater good that didn't really exist: the maternity ward nurse.

Fear shot through his eyes like a bullet from the Colt.

It didn't go unnoticed, at least not to the only woman in the room. And while Dean and Bobby knew Sam too well not to pick up on his worried expression, only Scarlett understood the reason behind it.

Her head tilted to the side as her eyes held his gaze and it was almost as if he could hear her voice in his head. _"It's gone, Sam. All of it's gone. This isn't Ruby or Azazel or that R.N. Lillith's lackey possessed. They're not a part of you anymore, Sam… but I am. This is you and me, Sam. Just you and me."_

Resolve circulating through his body, Sam stared at the fruit still in his hand and began to focus. Noting his brother's acquiescence to his telekinesis, Dean took a step forward, but was met by Bobby's outstretched arm. His head whipped to the older man at his left, who shook his head and then glanced back to the younger Winchester.

By the time both men were once again looking at Sam, it appeared as though a vein was going to pop out of his head at any moment. And just when Dean was convinced his head would explode, the sphere rose a few inches into the air. Less than five seconds later, it dropped back into his hand.

Sam grunted in disappointment, but Scarlett smiled at him genuinely. "That was pretty good for your first time, Sam."

"I want to try again," he stated firmly, his gaze never leaving the fruit. "I want to get this right."

"Alright," the woman replied with a quick nod. "But you need to relax. Popping a blood vessel in your face is not going to help you move the orange. It's only going to give Dean another reason to make fun of you."

Dean shrugged and then nodded nonchalantly. "Yeah, it'd be pretty funny."

"We have another two days until we have to leave," she informed the tallest of the three men, who barely shifted his eyes. "You can practice all you want until then."

"Oh absolutely, that's incredibly productive, _Sam_," Dean snorted sarcastically, taking a step closer to Scarlett. "Lucifer's getting closer to being freed every second and with each second that passes, people are coming closer to dying. But hey… why not try and hurl a freaking orange across the room with your mind?"

"Everyone's dying, Dean," Scarlett interred, turning her head away from Sam to stare up at him. "Some more slowly than others, but everyone's clock is ticking."

His emerald eyes darkened as his body swiveled to face her and he began to walk towards her portion of the wall. "Everyone except _you_ that is."

She held his stare, her irises displaying more green than gold at that particular moment. "I died inside a long time ago, Dean. I don't have much to live for anymore, I might as well be in the ground."

He froze mid-step, his desire to pick a fight now gone. "You don't mean-"

"Yes, I do." She nodded as if it were the most obvious thing in the world with a passivity that made him uncomfortable. "I'm basically an orphan. The only family I had after my parents died was back in England and I don't know what happened to them. The Lucas and Parker lines could very well have died out long ago. The love of my life died before we could start a life together. I've never had a friend long enough to regret leaving him or her behind. All I have left are Castiel and Anna… and I don't need to be on Earth to see them."

"You have me." The words escaped Dean Winchester's lips before he could stop them. "And Sam. And Bobby."

Scarlett's gaze dropped to her hands. "That's nice of you to say, but I doubt you'd take a bullet for me like any of you would for each other. And that's okay. I don't blame you. I've known you for less than a week."

"And in less than a week, you managed to save my life. I wouldn't exactly call that nothing," Dean retorted, standing above her. "Plus, Sam kind of likes having you around to geek out with. That's not really my thing."

A smile tugged the corners of her lips upward and she rose to her feet, dusting off her jeans. "And I like having Sam around …" she trailed off as she walked across the circular room towards the man in question, still attempting to levitate the fruit. Her blonde hair swirled around her as she turned back towards Dean for a moment. "You too, Dean."

He marveled at her incredulously, his eyes slightly widened and his lips parted as her focus returned to his brother. If he were to be one hundred percent truthful with himself, Dean would have to admit that there was a large piece of him that liked having her around too, one that was slightly overwhelming and more than a little disconcerting.

Not that he'd ever be one hundred percent truthful with himself or anything.

* * *

**A/N: So there it is, Chapter 10. You guys have no idea how much I hemmed and hawed over this chapter! I guess that's what I get for devoting two and a half weeks of my life to mid-terms. Sorry this one didn't come as fast. Plus, it's very hard to write when right after your midterms finish, there's a Supernatural repeat. And it wasn't even an oldie, but goody. Sympathy for the Devil was too fresh to inspire me.**

**On an interesting side note, my roommate and I were watching Jeopardy the other day and the topic was Bible Study. The question, for $1200, was "In this book, Death rides a red horse." When I loudly yelled Revelations, followed by screaming, "Thank you, Supernatural," she got a little scared. But I was happy, haha.**

**As for the last two Supernatural episodes that we've seen since Chapter 9 was posted…**

**I thought Fallen Idols was pretty good. I actually thought Paris did a good job in the role she was expected to play. And it was awesome seeing her "whale" on Dean. Too funny. Great fruitarian quote thrown in there between the boys. Interestingly enough, there was a **_**Christine**_** reference made in there and if you recall, I made a reference to that same movie/book in Chapter 8. I love coincidence! Although the best line of all was Dean's: "I've never even seen House of Wax."**

**As a Spanish-speaker and Spanish minor in college, I very much appreciated the two scenes in which the language was used. The first one being with the housekeeper, who only knew English phrases like "Can I go home now?", and then between Sam and Dean ("Mucho loco"… "**_**Muy**_**… muy loco). Both were hysterical.**

**There was a LIIIIIITTTLLLEEE piece of me that was just **_**dying**_** to have Leshii turn into John, but I think that was just so I could see JDM again. I thought it was fantastic that this episode subtly, yet firmly cemented that in life, there's no one Dean worshiped more than his own father.**

**And I Believe the Children are Our Future was a much heavier episode, even though it was funny. I liked that Sam was trying to prevent Jesse from going down the same path that he did and that Jesse's actions gave them a little more hope that someone out there mad the right decision. (Emotional line of the night goes to Castiel, in response to Sam's suggestion that Jesse could make the right choice: "You didn't. And I can't take that chance.).**

**The similar structure of events to Tall Tales didn't go unnoticed, but it was a lot more lighthearted and I enjoyed that. Well, except for the babysitter scratching out her brains. Great scenes with Dean and the roast beef cooked via joybuzzer. Even better scene with the Winchester boys when Dean tests his theory about the joybuzzer on Sam after talking to Jesse. BEST SCENE of the night goes to the scene with the hair on the hand. (Sam: Oh, dude, that's not what I think it is, is it? Dean: I got bored. And the nurse was hot. Sam: You know you can go blind from that too… and you are **_**not**_** using my razor.) I was in stitches for a good ten minutes.**

**By the way, who watched this episode and immediately said: "Oh my God, I WANT A CASTIEL ACTION FIGURE?" All of you? That's what I thought. CW, get on that. Maybe, we'll get all of our classic rock anthems back then.**

**But the conclusion got us back to an emotional scene, where Dean asks Sam if he wants to drive. I think this is the first REAL point this season in which I can see the wedge between them really retreating.**

**I cannot wait for The Curious Case of Dean Winchester. I love the idea of Dean at eighty years old, especially going toe to toe with Bobby. I'll save my opinion of what little I've seen for the next chapter!**

**BUT BACK TO THE STORY!**

**I hope you're all enjoying the evolution of the dynamic between Scarlett and Dean. I think with every chapter, it's changing a little bit. But there's one very specific aspect of Dean I've been careful to conceal (I won't say whether it's physical or emotional) that she has yet to see of him and it's paramount to their relationship. And by relationship, I mean interaction/friendship/whatever it is that they have.**

**And I told you I'd bring back a few familiar faces! Jo, Rufus, and Michael, oh my! Did anyone notice Ellen Harvelle in the background of all of that bickering? She was in there too! Oh… and Jefferson and Joshua were contacts of John mentioned in season one, with Creedy being Kubrick's cohort in season three whom I feel went legit after his and Gordon's deaths, for those of you who didn't pick up on it. It's okay… I'm sneaky like that.**

**I'd also just like to mention that not only did I bake an apple pie from scratch on Sunday, but I applied for a job in Mr. Tod's Pie Factory, which some of you might have seen on Shark Tank. It's a cute little shop near Rutgers that makes the most delicious baked goods, mainly pies and cheesecakes, that's doing a national wholesale business, as well. Dean Winchester would be proud. And Sammy too… he wouldn't have to constantly get Dean his pies. I'd be more than happy to provide home delivery. **

**SHOUT-OUT TIME:**

**AnnabelleLee13194 – **Oh, YES for Apple Pie. Thank you for giving me assurance on my characters. I also dislike that same double standard. I hate whiny lead female characters. And let you tell me something, I'm a Dean!girl, so his subwoofer voice drove me bonkers. But I'd definitely jump Sam in a second too. Even with his pouty face and all. Uh… and did you know Jensen is rumored for a new Resident Evil movie? Yeppers, he is! I'm really worried that Bobby won't make it out of 2009 alive, but one can only hope.

**Lois87 – **Thank you! I'd do HEADSTANDS if Sam would ask me to, let alone Dean. By the way, in an interview with the NY Post recently, Kripke said that "Even though we're closing this chapter, there's no reason another chapter can't open. However this story ends, it will end with a return to the 'Supernatural' status quo, which is a world full of vicious monsters and demons that are ripping mankind limb from limb. There's still going to be plenty of stories for the Winchesters." Good news all around!

**Mellie91 – **Thank you, m'dear! And as for Scarlett and Dean (all shippers are welcome to create their own nickname for the pairing!), you never know. Dean doesn't really know how to be a boyfriend, Scarlett doesn't know how to be a girlfriend since she hasn't technically been in a relationship for over 250 years. Even that wasn't _really_ a relationship. So they're both romantically inept. Needless to say, it'd be interesting.

**Kari10 – **Thank you! As I said to Mellie91, I'm more than open to pairing nicknames from Scarlett/Dean shippers! I think you'll enjoy a very interesting moment that I'm planning, that I'll mention in the spoilers at the very end.

**Lemonwedges4 – **I definitely took into consideration your desire for a more "angsty" Anna. This chapter didn't really call for in much more than an facilitator for humor, but when she is needed in later chapters, I will certainly remember your note! This chapter is a MUCH longer one. Hope you enjoyed!

**PATDfan2012 – **Thanks! You asked and you shall receive… more Scarlett and Dean moments abound!

**Klandgraf2007 – **Glad you liked that moment. Bet you liked the one at the end of this chapter even more! I'm not entirely sure what you meant in your review, but the spoilers I dropped were in this chapter.

**Artemis of the Storm Riders – **Glad you liked that end scene! I might drop them into another time/location at some point, but it won't be in the immediate future. It might be a little while down the road, after a relatively significant event that has yet to take place. I definitely kept your comments about Anna in mind during this chapter's writing. I tried to make her a little less immature, but funny in her own dry, yet girlish way. That's the best I can explain it. Haha.

**Chocolatemud – **Glad to hear it! Oh, Cas and his humanity. And endless well of humor!

**Lady Rayvynne – **Thanks, I think the journal is going to be brought back for another purpose in the next chapter or two. You shall see! And that complex is going to come back and BITE HIM down the road. Definitely send me a message to my inbox if you want my email. I'd love to check out the first few pages!

**Midnight LeAnn – **I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I'm going to give some spoilers out at the end of my author's note from now on. And that includes this chapter's note! As for Castiel's humanity, as Misha once said, "It all started with a smirk…"

**RubberDucky94 – **Thank you so much! That was an overwhelmingly flattering review. Do me a favor… pass that on to Kripke, Gamble, and Edlund. Thanks, haha. But really, I appreciate your praise. Sorry I didn't get to post earlier, but I'd hate to do crappily in school and know Sam and Dean are to blame. I just picked at the chapter here and there. But I hope it was worth it. Don't worry, this story WILL get finished!

**Anonymous – **You didn't leave a name, but I wanted to thank you for your compliments nonetheless. And I can appreciate your love of all things Dean for certain! I'm especially flattered that you think of each chapter as an episode, mainly because it makes me feel as though this story really WORKS as I intended it to. I actually was toying around at first with something that because you reminded me of, I'm going to share it with everyone now. Thanks again!

**So I'm getting to the parts that I'm sure all of you will enjoy that began with a few reviewers last week, but will now continue to appear at the end of each chapter's authors notes: The Cutting Room Floor, SPOILERS (gasp!), and Comment Requests.**

**The Cutting Room Floor:**** In this chapter, I originally intended to have the scene between Sam and Scarlett in the morning feature a romantic, yet non-sexual twist resulting in a momentary Sam/Scarlett pairing. It was to wind up being a dream in Dean's head. I thought better of it.**

**Spoilers:**** The following chapter is going to get back to business as usual, with Scarlett joining Sam and Dean on a case. However, while on the hunt, Scarlett's curiosity concerning John's journal gets the best of her.**

**Comment Requests:**** I need pairing names from all you shippers out there! I've been getting reviews for Scarlett/Sam and Scarlett/Dean moments. And I need pairing nicknames! While some of you like Scarlett/Sam romantically, I'd like to be able to just give their moments a name! SOOOOOO… I'm taking suggestions. Let's dust off our thinking caps, people!**

**Anyway, thanks for being so loyal and for the thirteen reviews that blew my mind!**

**Have a great week!**

**Danielle**


	11. Chapter 11

Dean awoke in the middle of the night with a start, sensing something was not right in the room. He looked to his left and noted that Bobby was asleep in bed, snoring rather loudly. With a roll of his eyes, he quickly dismissed the notion that the noise was his reason for waking. He scanned the right side of the room and found that Sam was also sleeping, albeit rather soundlessly in comparison to Bobby. However, the cot directly next to his was empty.

Two days ago, Dean had watched Bobby's bed, along with two of his guest beds, fly through the house and past the threshold of the panic room, seemingly of their own accord. Contrary to what appeared to be occurring, Scarlett had carefully maneuvered each piece of furniture through the free space of the house, rotating them sideways to travel down the stairs and fit through the door to the safe area of the home.

The cot, however, had been one of the few pieces of furniture in the room that had already been there. Deciding who would sleep on it was a little more difficult than the effort it had taken to get it inside in the first place.

Bobby was automatically out of the running, already having his bed in the space and being the physically oldest of the four. In addition, Dean and Scarlett had agreed that having Sam sleep in the bed he'd been partially confined to during his attempt to detox from demon blood wasn't exactly in his best interest either. However, which one of them got the last guest bed and which one of them slept in the cot wasn't as hotly contested as Dean thought it'd be.

He should have known that when Scarlett acquiesced to his demand that she take the remaining bed, something was amiss. Pulling at the sleeves of his olive green tee-shirt that had bunched over his biceps, he swung his legs over the side of the same bed she had occupied when he had fallen asleep. Instantly, he realized exactly why she had agreed so quickly.

Eyes only half-open, Dean rose from the bed and slowly tracked towards the thick iron door that had been cracked open. He pushed it open slowly and it creaked in protest, allowing the white light of the main room to wash over him. His hand instinctively moved to shield his eyes, which had narrowed into slits.

"I take it you've figured me out."

Dean lowered his hand and glanced across the iron-padded room, where a blonde woman sat at the table with a book in hand. "What are you doing awake?"

"Insomnia, too much on my mind, late-night curiosity…" she rattled off as though there were a list in front of her. "Take your pick. Why are you up?"

He shrugged, not really sure himself. "I don't know, but I figured I'd hunt you down after you Jedi mind-tricked me."

"Sorry about that," she laughed. "You just need the rest and comfort more than I do." Before Dean could open his mouth to protest, she quickly interceded. "I don't mean that you're weak in that sense. I physically have no need for comfort."

Dean's eyebrows furrowed curiously. "So you're telling me that you could sleep on a bed of rocks and be just as happy as on a California King?"

"Well, no," Scarlett corrected him. "But if we were both to sleep on separate beds of rocks, you'd wake up in the morning feeling seventy different ways of sore and I'd be fine. No muscle aches, no joint pain… nothing."

"Must be nice," he snorted in response and rubbed at his sleepy eyes.

She shrugged. "I guess."

"No lasting pain, no death," he stated, taking a few steps further into the room. "Life without fear."

"Without them, I don't_ feel_ human," she attempted to explain. "Taking that bullet for you, feeling that burn… reminds me that you and I are made of the exact same things."

Dean looked at her as though she were clinically insane. "You _like_ to suffer?"

"You make it seem masochistic." Scarlett placed a napkin inside the book to hold her place then snapped it shut. "But sometimes, you suffer more without the basic aspects of humanity than you would if you were mortal. I have to live life knowing that every person I will ever meet is going to die before I do. It's a sad, lonely existence."

"But you have a soulmate out there somewhere," Dean pointed out, leaning against the chair opposite her, in a futile attempt at encouragement.

"Who is just as mortal as you are," she retorted softly, running a hand through her hair. "I will find him only to lose him. Sometimes, I think that I don't want to find him at all. I don't want to have him for a few years and then spend eternity missing him."

"Then you do live with fear," he answered her back, but not with the smugness she had anticipated when she looked up at him from her chair.

Perhaps, he had a point. "Fear of being alone?" she asked, to which he nodded and she shook her head in disgust, hazel eyes dropping back to the hardcover book. "That's pathetic."

Dean reached out and slid the chair backwards, its legs grinding against the iron floor. "There's a lot of shit out there I find pathetic…" he began, lowering himself onto the wooden seat. "Deadbeat dads, mothers who put their preschoolers in beauty pageants, online dating…" he rattled off, gaining the slightest hint of hidden satisfaction when he caught the faintest glimpse of a smile on her face. "But there is _nothing_ pathetic about being afraid of losing someone you love."

"Is that why you never have a girlfriend?" Scarlett asked bluntly before she could stop herself. Instantly, she regretted it. "Ugh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"I never wanted one."

She stared at him curiously. "You never _wanted_ one."

Dean shook his head. "For as long as I've been able to appreciate women, which has been a very, _very _long time…" He smirked. "I've known that having a girl around would just give me another weak spot. My father and Sam were enough for me."

"And when your dad died…"

"It made even less sense. Why put my weakness number back at two if it were unnecessary? I can meet every one of my needs without having a girl around long enough to care about her."

She looked up from the midnight blue text. "So you never think about life after hunting?"

"There is no life _after_ hunting," Dean responded darkly, his jaw clenching.

Scarlett sat up a little straighter, his rigid body now slightly intimidating. "You could change your mind…"

He grunted in annoyance and shot up from the chair, causing it to wobble dangerously. "I can't just walk away from this, Scarlett. Sam tried and look what happened? It wasn't his fault, it's just the way it is." Dean was standing behind the chair at this point, hands gripping the back of the piece of furniture tightly. "I'm going to die hunting and I've made peace with that. And there's not a single person out there who is going to change my mind."

He turned, beginning to walk out of the room, but barely made it to the doorway when her voice stopped him, "What about _your_ soulmate?"

Dean froze and swiveled around, the look on his face indiscernible. "I don't _have_ one."

Dumbstruck to the point of silence, Scarlett could only watch as he disappeared beyond the iron-framed opening in the wall; the last remaining sign of his presence being the olive green tee-shirt that had been angrily flung to the floor.

* * *

When Sam awoke, he found one bed was missing from the room, along with the person who was supposed to be inside of it. "Dean!" he called out warily, the navy blue blanket clenched tightly in his fists. "Dean!"

"Shut up, man…" a deep voice groaned on his left, followed by the rustling of sheets. "I'm right here."

Sam's head whipped towards the voice and he breathed in relief when his eyes fell upon his brother. "But Scarlett…"

"Pulled a fast one on me in the middle of the night," Dean finished for him sourly. "Apparently, you're friends with a Charmed one."

Sam did a double take. "Dean."

"_What_?" he shrugged and flashed his trademark cocky grin. "Rose McGowan was _hot_."

"Since you seem to know so much about Rose McGowan…" his brother addressed him with a scowl. "You think you might be able to tell me something more useful… like where the hell Bobby is?"

"_Bobby_ is in the only other room in this place," another voice cut into their conversation. "Idjits."

* * *

By the time they moseyed into the room where the two older hunters were waiting – even though it was hard for Dean to think of her as being older than the owner of Singer's Salvage Yard – they were already knee-deep in research. The blonde sat in the old chair, laptop resting on the table, with Bobby standing hunched over her shoulder.

Sam took a few lazy steps toward her, Dean falling in at his side. The first thing he noticed was the bed hanging out next to the bookcase, which still held the imprint of a slender body in its comforter. Most likely, Scarlett and Dean had another fight and she'd created her own solitary confinement. It wouldn't have surprised him if he'd woken up to find the iron door bolted shut; it'd serve his brother right.

Everything seemed to be normal, save the bed. They'd all fallen back into a normal routine. Then he stopped midstride, the sound of Dean's boots echoed ahead of him.

The older Winchester soon stopped, as well, and turned his head towards his brother. "What?"

"Iron," Sam stated, staring past Dean towards the blonde. "We're surrounded by iron."

"Okayyyy." Dean furrowed his eyebrows at him. "You want to build yourself a suit and change your last name to Stark?"

"I'm talking bout the computer, _Dean_," Sam replied with a roll of his eyes. "She's using the internet in a giant room of iron."

"Oh." His face returned to normal. "I knew that."

In response, Scarlett held up her hands and wiggled her fingers. "Technopathic freak, remember?"

The taller Winchester let out a deep laugh and walked over to stand beside her. "Anything strike you yet?"

She looked up at him. "You interested in a little head-hunting?"

"Vampires?" He tilted his head to the side. "How far?"

"About a twenty-one hour drive," she started and then noted Dean's mouth had opened, ready to protest. Quickly, she added "But we need to make a stop on the way."

Dean was instantly raring to complain. "Why?"

Scarlett typed a few words on the keyboard, punctuated by the _enter_ key, and then turned the whole computer around. On the screen was the front page of the largest newspaper in the state of Kentucky, The Courier-Journal, with a headline that all but screamed at them.

_**Local man kills Mystery Beast**_

_A Louisville man has killed the animal that has been long-sought after in the state of Kentucky. The animal, nicknamed the Mystery Beast, has been responsible for the death of over 30 different people in the Ashland-area in the last five years. Out of the thirty missing, twenty-eight mutilated bodies have been recovered. _

_Matthew Colt, the great-great-grandson of famed gun manufacturer, Samuel Colt, managed to kill the animal while hunting in the Jameson Deer Compound. Colt noticed a break in one of the fences marked by claws and heard the indistinguishable growling of another animal. After venturing in the direction of the noise, he was able to shoot the beast._

_Out of ammunition for his shotgun, Colt was forced to use a revolver that has been passed down in his family for generations, allegedly forged by Samuel Colt himself in the 1840's. According to Matthew Colt, the beast died instantly._

_The corpse of the mysterious animal is currently en route to Texas A&M, where scientists hope to identify the creature._

Dean glanced up from the screen, not even bothering to read the rest of the article. "So, what? You think we have a Wendigo problem?"

Scarlett leaned over the computer and clicked on the small image embedding within the text, pulling up a new window of its enlargement. "No, I think we have a different problem." She pointed to a small spot on the photo currently on display.

Both Sam and Dean's eyes fell on what was clenched in the man's fingers.

It was the Colt.

* * *

Dean began to check the contents of a few boxes stacked haphazardly in Bobby's kitchen. He trusted Scarlett's judgment more than he previously had, but he'd grown accustomed to double and triple checking other people's work, including that of his father and brother.

Crouched down in front of one cube, he placed his hands on the edges of its open face and stopped. He'd been trying to track it down for years, ever since Bela Talbot had stolen it from his and Sam's motel room. Yet, it had eluded them for almost two years; disappeared into thin air. Part of him believed that whatever demon it had come into the possession of had smartly melted it down.

Lucky for him, whoever that demon was, it had been more than a little cocky.

* * *

"Bobby, can you do me a favor?"

The hardened hunter stopped in his own front doorway and looked at the blonde on his porch warily. "What is it?"

She took a step towards him and sighed, "I need you to take care of something for me."

His head tilted to the side. "What?"

"My car," she answered solemnly, as if she were giving up her own child. "We're taking the Impala."

"Do they know?" he asked, jerking his head in the Winchesters' direction.

Scarlett shook her head. "I can't ask them to leave it behind. I know what it means to them…"

Bobby crossed his arms over his chest. "You mean you know what it means to _Dean_."

"Same thing," she replied, brushing off the question. "If this is our last ride, that's the car I know they'd want to go out it."

He nodded. "And what about you?" Her nose crinkled in question and Bobby took that as an opportunity to clarify himself. "What do _you_ want?"

She paused to think it over, tucking a strand of caramel hair behind her right ear, when Dean bellowed at her from the yard. "One more minute!" She yelled back and despite his audible grumbling, turned her attention back to Bobby. "I don't have the time to explain it, but here…" she handed him a plain white envelope with his name on it in her loopy cursive. "After we leave, I want you to open this. It'll explain everything."

Bobby held his hands up in front of him. "I don't know…"

"Jesus Christ, Scarlett!" Dean boomed at her as he crossed the property towards the porch, Sam in step beside him. "Let's GO!"

She pressed the envelope into his left palm and closed his fingers around it. "Please, Bobby. If Sam and Dean are with me, you're the only person left I can trust."

He finally relented with a nod and pocketed the envelope, which jingled as it slid into his plaid shirt. "You take care of those boys, you hear me?"

"I will," she agreed. "And you take care of yourself, too. I'll make sure they stay in touch."

He watched as she turned on her heels and gracefully walked down the steps to where Sam and Dean stood between the cars. The scene unfolded before him as if he were a fly on the wall.

"So glad you decided to grace us with your presence," Dean stated acerbically, leaning against the gleaming black paint of the Impala.

She stopped in front of him, parallel to the headlights of the car, and slid her slender hands into the back pocket of her jeans. "Don't make me change my mind, Winchester."

He straightened himself upright again and took two steps until their bodies were facing. "Change your mind about what?"

As Dean crossed his arms, his father's brown leather jacket wrinkling in complaint, Scarlett took a moment to suppress the bubbling frustration he always seemed to bring out in her before she spoke again. She glanced around his body, hazel eyes catching the green ones of his younger brother. "Sam, empty the two boxes of my guns in your brother's car."

Dean's typical, cocky façade began to dissolve almost instantly. "We're taking the Impala?"

The woman nodded. "I know how much she means to you."

"But what about _your_ car?" he asked incredulously, his smirk long-gone at this point. "You've had it for almost forty years."

"If you don't stop Lucifer, it won't matter anyway," Scarlett responded honestly. "Look, Dean. You're everyone's last hope. There is no understudy, no plan B. You're it. I figured that with everything that rests on your shoulders, the least I could do is give you the peace of mind that comes with driving the Impala," she asserted, reaching up her right hand and resting it on his left shoulder as she took a step to the side. Dean's gaze followed and stared at the spot of her grasp as an unusual heat flooded her fingertips. After a few seconds passed, Scarlett's hand dropped back to her side and her head turned back to the taller man standing behind him. "Come on, Sam. Let's get those guns into the boot."

After she had passed by the older brother, he took a few steps back towards the car and leaned his body against the space between the front passenger door and the headlight. In the back of his mind, Dean picked up the dual popping noises of the Mustang and Impala's trunks, followed by vague words of encouragement in a feminine voice he assumed was Scarlett. The words _focus_, _watch me_, and _again_ seemed to be used frequently as metal clinked in transference.

His mind virtually vacant out of shock, Dean was roused from his blank state by the sound of two doors opening and one closing, as well as the voice of his brother.

"Dean," Sam addressed him, his hand resting atop the window of the open front door. "_Dean_."

His head snapped to his right. "What?"

Sam's eyes tightened slightly. "You ready to go?"

Looking at his brother, he noticed that Scarlett was no longer in his line of sight and figured she was now in the backseat. "Yeah," he answered, pushing off the Impala. "Let's go."

From his spot on the porch, Bobby looked on curiously as Dean made his way around the front of the car and stopped at the driver's side. His hand now resting on the handle, he shook his head a few times to clear his thoughts and then pulled open the door. After sliding inside, the engine of the Impala roared to life.

The seasoned hunter watched as Dean backed the vehicle away from the house and turned it around before heading out onto the road once more.

Once he was certain that the trio was not coming back, Bobby pulled the envelope from his pocket and retreated back inside the house. If he hadn't known any better, it was as though Sam, Dean, and Scarlett had never been there at all.

But the letter in his hand was evidence to the contrary.

Grabbing a beer from the fridge in the panic room, he sat down at his newly-moved kitchen table and tore open the white paper. After dumping the set of keys he knew belonged to the car in his yard, he retrieved the letter written on yellow legal paper inside.

_Bobby,_

_I've written you this letter as a means of taking caution should something go awry over the course of the next twenty-five days. I never want us to be without a plan of any kind._

_If something happens to me and for some reason, I am unable to go to Maryland, I want you to contact Castiel immediately. He and Anna will know what to do with Sam and Dean. __**I**__ am not the priority in this situation. Sam and Dean are. And while it pains me to say it, as I've grown to love Sam as if he were my own brother in the short time I've known him, Dean is of even higher importance to the cause._

_I can assure you that nothing will happen to Dean until he fulfills his destiny of defeating Lucifer. The protections placed over him are so powerful and complex that not even I fully understand them. I promise, Dean will remain safe._

_In the case I do not make it out of the month of August alive, whether my death occur on our journey or in Lucifer's Cave, I am also leaving you with a set of instructions in my journal. Ask Sam or Dean where it is if the time comes. Both will know where it is and one will have it in his possession._

_Sincerely,_

_Scarlett_

Bobby popped off the cap of the bottle and held it up to the letter. "Here's hoping, kid."

* * *

**A/N: Before I say anything else, I know a lot of you are wondering what happened to the spoiler I teased in the last chapter. It's coming, I promise. If I added that whole scene to the chapter, this chapter would be twenty five pages long once I added all of the events leading to it. And while I certainly do not have a problem with long chapters, it would have been overwhelming. This seemed like a natural end and I ran with it. The journal will come up in the next chapter.**

**I know this was a really heavy chapter. I didn't intend for it to be as such when I started, but it just flowed right. I don't know how else to explain it. The one thing I try to do with the story, as the writers do with the actual show, is keep the lighthearted banter going on, even when the subtext is anything but light.**

**Big thanks to JulietaGabbana, who named the Scarlett/Dean pairing Deanlett. Sam/Scarlett will be known as Samlett. Which rhymes with Hamlet. But I did not enjoy that play… I'm a bigger fan of Taming of the Shrew and Othello.**

**I just realized that three episodes have passed since I last published a chapter, but I chalk that up to slight writer's block and then being banned from the internet by Rutgers for excessive downloading. I'm sorry if I cannot watch The Office on Thursday nights and need to download it… but SPN takes priority, damnit! Anyhoo.**

**I loved The Curious Case of Dean Winchester. The best part was Dean's little dance when he left the apartment building. It was so adorable. But the heavy overtones of Bobby's paralysis was a nice touch, too.**

**I didn't see the plot twist in the form of Gabriel coming in Changing Channels. Didn't see it at **_**all**_**. Kudos to Kripke, Gamble, and Edlund. Major kudos.**

**And what can I say about The Real Ghostbusters other than that it was hysterical? The panels were very funny and the guys' reaction to the questions posed to Chuck were excellent. Not a big fan of Becky, as she seems like a dumb blonde character more than an obsessive fan, but I'm happy that Chuck's happy. "Grave digging is HARD!" Hehe. Is it weird that every time I saw Barnes, all I could think of was his role in the Olsen Twins movie "It Takes Two?" Because that **_**is**_** all I could think of.**

**Next week is going to be GREAT. I love Jo! And I'm such a Jo/Dean shipper! Although, in the previews, he looks like he's in such pain when he's kissing her. This was four years in the making!**

**REVIEW SHOUT-OUTS:**

**Mahlia – **No! It's not wrong to say that… it makes me SO happy! I'm so glad that you fully get everything I write and that you notice the work I put into. I obsess over how many times I use the word car in a single scene, for God's sake! My roommates think I'm crazy because they'll randomly see me get up and move like I want a character to, or look in the mirror at a face I can imagine a character making, so that I can aptly describe it. But it helps! I'm a big fan of Sammyface and think of him as a little brother. At least, that's how I picture my relationship with him would be if he were a real person, regardless of Dean. And having big sister syndrome, I'm protective of him… I feel bad that people pick on him for his powers. So I tried to turn it positive because I don't think that Sam is evil. I just think his desire to be good has made him a little gullible. And you don't EVER have to stop writing/talking! I LOVE long reviews!

**PATDfan2012 – **Glad you liked it! Sorry for the wait. Hope you like this too!

**Lemonwedges4 –**Happy to hear it! Wait until Jo meets Scarlett. Now _that's_ going to be fun.

**Midnight LeAnn – **I want one too! Warner Brothers really needs to get on that. Or at least get it made for the conventions!

**RubberDucky – **Told you I was hard at work! The next one should come sooner, as I've figured out how I want to get to a major moment in the story. Now that I know how I want things to go until that point, I have a lot more freedom.

**Chocolatemud – **As curious as the case of Dean Winchester?!?! Sorry, I couldn't resist. Hope you liked this one too!

**Klandgraf2007 – **Ahhh, I get what you're saying now! At the time I first read the review after posting, I know it made sense to me. There was just such a gap between that time and review responses that I forgot. Sorry! I was actually brushing my teeth the other day and that exact question popped into my head. And the answer to that question, as of this moment, is yes, BUT a while down the road. Something major has to happen first.

**JulietaGabbana – **Ah! What a long review… I LOVE it! Don't worry about forgetting to login. A review is a review and now I know from who! Did that rhyme? I think it might have. Oh well, anyway… I like the name "Deanlett." I think I'm going to make it Samlett and Deanlett. And I like Samlett because it sounds a lot like Hamlet. Wow, I need a life. I'm glad that you enjoyed the hunters included, including Joshua and Jefferson. Major props for recognizing them! Journal scene coming up soon! Keep reading for the spoilers at the end.

**SEGMENTS**

**The Cutting Room Floor: **Originally, the scene with Scarlett informing Dean that they were taking the Impala was going to be told from Bobby's perspective, meaning it would just have been behavioral observation without dialogue. But really… who doesn't like a stunned Dean Winchester?

**Spoilers: **Remember how John told Sam and Dean that he doesn't know who the original owner of the Colt was? Well, Scarlett does.

**Have a great week everyone!**

**And remember…**

**Press this little button… here.**

**l**

**l**

**V**


	12. Chapter 12

"Who are you?" the man standing behind the safety of his screen door asked the three well-dressed individuals on his porch.

Sam, Dean, and Scarlett had arrived in town a little over an hour ago, but had made quick use of the gas station fifteen outside of Louisville before it as a means of preparing. After all, three people dressed in jeans couldn't just drive into town and exit a restaurant in business attire.

As she exited the Eagle Station bathroom in a black pantsuit with a crimson camisole, Dean handed her a FBI badge of her own that he had made while they were sequestered in Bobby's panic room. Yet, not before making a quip about the irony in her choice of shirt color.

With a roll of her eyes, Scarlett reminded him that a trio of FBI agents showing up to a house was rare. However, Dean knew this. He just wanted to show off his handiwork.

And a few moments later, all he wanted to do was sit down after laughing so hard at her choice of alias.

In a navy suit and matching tie, Dean immediately reached into the inner pocket of his sport coat and extracted his badge. "I'm Agent Nash, this is Agent Young," he stated, tilting his head in the direction of his brother who mimicked his actions. "We're with the Kansas State Police Department. And this," he added, glancing at Scarlett on his right, "Is Professor Deborah Harry of the University of Kansas School of Law."

Scarlett was surprised he was able to keep a straight face. Her attention on the matter at hand, she instantly began to pour on the charm with a kind smile. "Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Colt."

And just as she'd expected, Matthew Colt began to melt into putty in her hands. "Please, call me Matthew," he informed her, pushing open the door to allow the trio to enter the house. "How can I assist you today?"

"Well, _Matthew_," she began, causing the color to creep into his face and Dean to roll his eyes. "There's actually a university matter that brings us here today."

"To Kentucky?" Matthew's eyebrows rose at the notion and he laughed. "Not sure what I can help you with, Professor, but I'll try."

"Debbie," she corrected him, smiling yet again.

Dean picked up where the blonde had left off. "There's a KU alumni who left a significant portion of her estate to the university. Unfortunately, a few of the items willed to the school were missing from her home." He pulled out a small pad and flipped a few pages, his eyes roaming up and down the page that had been scribbled on. "And it seems that all of the items have been recovered except one. We think you might be in possession of this item."

"You must be mistaken," he shook them off. "I've never stolen anything in my life!"

Scarlett took a step forward and placed a hand on the man's arm. At thirty-six years old, Matthew Colt looked good for his age. Sure, he was beginning to develop some of the tell-tale lines that came with getting older, but he was aging well. And the scruff that formed along his jaw-line enhanced his features, if nothing else. "We're not accusing you of anything, Matthew. Often, caretakers, maids, butlers, and other employees take advantage of the elderly whom they work for. In all likelihood, you purchased an item you did not know was stolen."

"So…" Matthew nodded as he walked over to his beige sofa and took a seat. "What is it you're looking for?"

Dean glanced down at his pad once more and looked back at the man. "A Texas Paterson 1836 revolver manufactured by your great-great grandfather."

Matthew Colt instantly froze. "But that's was the first gun he ever made. How could _she_ have it?"

Sam instantly replied, "She is a descendent of its original owner."

"That's impossible!" he exclaimed, leaning forward. "She didn't have any children."

Dean's head immediately cocked to the side and his eyebrows shot towards the sky. "_She_?"

"Yeah, she," Matthew repeated, now eyeing him. "Surely you know the legend of the Colt!"

"Of course," Scarlett responded, attempting to keep her cool despite her wavering mind. "The benefactor is the great-great niece of the original owner."

"It appears that Professor Harry," Dean said, looking from the woman to Samuel Colt's great-great-grandson, "Is holding out on us. Care to share?"

"Well," Matthew took a breath and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his worn jeans. "My grandmother, Sophie, was his granddaughter and she told me a lot of these stories. But she was an old woman…"

"That's alright, Mr. Colt," Sam replied swiftly, coaxing him on. "Whatever information you have helps."

The man nodded and gestured to the three-seater sofa before him. The trio sat down on the couch, Scarlett on the left end, Sam in the middle, and Dean on the right. "She said that he met this woman while he was over in England in 1834. He had gone to Europe in order to research plans for a gun that would revolutionize the arms industry." He leaned forward, his torso hunching over his knees. "Now, Grandma Sophie said he met her at a pub late one Monday night, which struck him as odd…"

"Because any woman of her age would have been at home with her husband, let alone by herself in a bar," Sam finished for him as Dean continued to write in his pad.

Matthew concurred, clasping his hands together. "He said that she approached him and told him that she knew what he was looking for. She said that she would give him what he wanted, but that the first one belonged to her."

Dean's curiosity was sufficiently piqued. "What belonged to her?"

"The first gun; the first revolver Samuel Colt ever created."

"This woman…" the older Winchester looked up from his pad and focused on him. "Did your grandmother ever tell you her name?"

The Kentucky man shook his head. "No, but she said her grandfather referred to her as Aurum Saeta Fontis," he remarked, carefully annunciating each word of Latin.

"The gold-haired fountain?" Sam's eyebrows furrowed.

"Because in all the years he knew her after they returned to the United States, she was as beautiful as the day he first met her."

"Like the Fountain of Youth," Sam stated and the man acknowledged his correct response with a nod.

As Sam continued the conversation and pressed Matthew for more information, Dean immediately turned his attention towards Scarlett, who was uncomfortably avoiding his gaze at the other end of the sofa. He waited until his brother was done talking before he spoke again. "Well, Mr. Colt, we appreciate your help." He rose to his dress shoes, Sam and Scarlett standing with him. "If you can think of anything else that might be of interest…"

"Wait!" Matthew blurted out suddenly, causing them to stop. "Wait," he repeated, much quieter this time. "I'll be right back."

Dean watched as the man hopped up from the cushion and walked briskly out of the room. As soon as he disappeared up the stairs, his head whipped to the woman on his right. "Seriously?"

"_What_?" Scarlett shot back, folding her arms over her ample chest.

"You didn't think that maybe, in the fourteen hours we were driving here, you should have mentioned this little fun fact?" he questioned angrily, his voice dropping to a dangerous low, despite his already harsh whisper.

"I didn't think it was relevant," the blonde answered defiantly.

Dean ground his teeth together. "You've got to be freaking _kidding _me."

Suddenly, they were alerted to Matthew Colt's impending presence in the form of boots clamoring down the steps. Moments later, at the sight of glinting silver, the hunters drew their guns.

"Whoa," Colt froze at the foot of the stairs, his hands, and subsequently his gun, in the air. "I'm not going to do anything, I swear. I just know it belongs to her."

"Put the gun at your feet," Dean instructed him, his own Colt 1911 trained on the thirty-something man. "Now."

Matthew did as he was told and held his hands above his head. "Look, lady… I know it's yours, just take it. I wasn't gonna shoot it."

"Thank you, Matthew." Scarlett took a hesitant step forward. "The university is going to be…"

"I didn't mean the university," he corrected her, looking the woman straight in the eye. "I meant that it belongs to _you_. It's _always _belonged to you."

She did a double-take. "Excuse me?"

"I, uh…" He looked down at the floor, whether it was at the gun or his Timberlands, she wasn't sure. "I might have withheld some information about a painting that's been passed down a few generations."

Dean lowered his gun. "So you knew it was her?"

Matthew nodded. "The painting doesn't do you justice."

Scarlett tilted her head to the side inquisitively. "So why didn't you say anything when I first showed up at your door?"

"I didn't know who _they_ were," Matthew responded, gesturing at the brothers and retrieving the gun from the wooden floor. "I was entrusted with the Colt to protect it. I know what it can do and what can happen if it falls into the wrong hands."

"_Entrusted_?" Sam repeated.

"Yes, a year and a half ago, a man came to my door in the middle of the night. Told me he was an angel," he snorted, as if he was still in disbelief. "It wasn't until I saw the wings that I believed it. He handed me a box. Said he had gotten it back from the demons and I was to protect its contents until its owner came for it. I was only to use it if absolutely necessary."

Scarlett stared off into the distance. "He knew I would come for it."

He bobbed his head in agreement and took a few steps forward, holding out the weapon for her to take. "Here. It was meant to be with you. I'm sorry, I used two of the bullets."

She took the Colt from his hands and opened the chamber. "Two left."

"I used one on a vampire in Louisiana, another for the Wendigo I found last weekend. Couldn't help it."

"It's fine. We're headhunting in Louisiana ourselves after we're finished here." She waved him off and snapped the casing shut, spinning the chambers. "I know how to make more, remember?"

"Right…" Matthew laughed, sliding his hands back into his pockets. "Guess the angel forgot that too. Or didn't want me to draw too much attention to myself."

"This angel have a name?" Dean pressed him impatiently.

Matthew turned his focus away from the divine woman whom he had been studying with great curiosity. "Yeah. His name was Gabriel."

* * *

Five hours outside of New Orleans, Scarlett sat in the back of the Impala with her legs folded beneath her and the Colt twirling around in her fingertips.

She hadn't seen the gun in ages, not since it had been stolen from her during the Great Depression. More than likely, it had passed through numerous hands, but now, it was resting in those of the original owner.

As the car ventured further and further into the dark abyss of the interstate, she leaned her head against the window. Temple pressed against the glass, and looked up at the stars. One hundred and seventy-four years ago, the very same sky was streaked with the blazing light of Halley's Comet and the iron plating of the 1836 Paterson Revolver had touched her skin for the first time. Yet, April 20, 1910 marked the last time the comet passed overhead while the Colt was in her possession.

"Bring back memories?" the voice that evoked images of gravel interrupted her pensiveness.

Scarlett's eyes flitted towards the back of Dean's headrest. "Something like that."

"Enlighten me," Dean returned with a hint of frustration, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter.

"Dean…" Sam addressed him in a warning tone.

"It's fine, Sam." The blonde sighed and straightened up, no longer feeling the cool glass against her forehead. "I was just thinking… the last time I held this gun in my hand was shortly after Black Tuesday. I haven't seen it in over seventy years."

A set of emerald eyes glanced at her in the rearview mirror. "What happened to it?"

"I was in Manhattan when the stock market crashed, attending a symposium. Everyone went crazy, looting businesses, houses, and hotels," she began to explain and noted with amusement that Sam was raptly paying attention. "I always kept the Colt with me, but it wasn't customary for a woman to carry any type of gun in the open. So I stashed it in the safe of my hotel room."

The older brother snorted. "Someone stole it from you? You can move things with your mind, but some average Joe off the street managed to jack it from you?"

"I used to think that's what happened. There were bullet holes in the lock," she answered and then ran her free hand through her caramel locks. "But in the last few years, I've come to the conclusion that Lilith had it."

This time, it was Sam who interjected. "But Daniel Elkins had it, then our father, and then…"

"Bela?" Her eyebrow arched at him. "All true. I think that Lilith had it in the sense that one of her demonic lackeys was holding onto it for her. After Bela took it, I think the same thing happened again, only with a different demon."

But Dean couldn't stay silent for long. "What makes you so sure?"

"The Colt wasn't the only thing I had in the safe. I had other weapons with me; ones given to me by angels, forged by my father's hand. Lately, they've been turning up in the hands of demons."

An unsettling feeling formed in the pit of Sam's stomach. "What kind of weapons?"

Scarlett shrugged. "Pretty run of the mill stuff… guns and knives, some bullets. Only two things in the safe could kill virtually anything."

"So if one was the Colt," Sam continued to press forward. "What was the other one?"

"Well, I should clarify that the knife didn't work on extremely powerful demons." Dean's eyes shifted to the mirror and stayed there a little too long, causing the car to swerve. "Dean!"

"Sorry, sorry," he mumbled, adjusting the path of the Impala. "Did the knife happen to have a wooden handle… Enochian symbols on the blade?"

Scarlett's face crinkled and she stopped playing with the gun in her hands. "How would you know that?"

Dean and Sam exchanged looks before the younger brother produced the dagger they had come to refer to as Ruby's Knife. He turned around in his seat and extended his hand over the back of the chair. "Is this it?"

Her eyes instantly widened and she ran her index finger over the carved symbols. "My knife. Where did you…?"

"Ruby," Sam answered softly.

"That miserable, soulless _bitch_," Scarlett snarled, eyes shooting back up from her tracing.

Dean had to stifle a chuckle. "I see we're talking about the same Ruby."

Sam continued to feel his stomach churn and was anxious to get the knife out of his hands. "Take it. It belongs to you, too."

Scarlett shook her head. "I don't have a need for it anymore. The knife is yours, Sam. And the Colt…" She leaned forward, her forearms resting on her the bench in front of her. "Is Dean's."

"Mine?" His eyebrows furrowed together. "It's your gun. You and Sam Colt made it."

"Dean, I made it for this. I made it for _you_," she told him, her eyes flecked with gold as they studied the weapon in her hand. "Take it," she added, holding the gun over the lip of the bench.

"Scarlett…" He cocked his head to the side and winced.

"_Dean_."Her eyes stared at him in the mirror. "Take it. It was meant to be yours for the last hundred and seventy years."

The hunter bent his arm back and reluctantly allowed her to place the gun in his outstretched palm before placing it beside him on the seat. "Creepy," he blanched.

* * *

The Impala rolled into the French Quarter of New Orleans shortly after the clock on the St. Louis Cathedral struck two in the morning. While in most towns they traveled to, the wee hours of the morning meant nothing but trouble, NOLA was still bustling with people.

Scarlett gazed out the window at the brick-faced buildings and let out an audible sigh. "I remember when this city was nothing but wood-paneled buildings, pubs, and whorehouses."

"Sounds like a place I would have loved," Dean noted with a smirk as he slowed the car to a stop at a traffic light.

Sam rolled his eyes and scanned the street. "Any idea where to start?"

"What street are we on?" she asked in response, craning her head slightly in an attempt to read the street sign above the light.

The younger Winchester read it aloud with ease, "Decatur."

The blonde nodded in recognition. "Go to 1039 Decatur… that's the best place to start."

* * *

Dean sauntered down the avenue, his boots tracking across the concrete still moist from the previous afternoon's thunderstorm. Something was off about the city and it was something he couldn't put his finger on.

Vampires were hiding in New Orleans, that much he knew, but they weren't the reasons he was harboring a strange feeling in his gut. Turning the corner, he decided it wasn't a sense of foreboding, nerves, or fear of any kind. It was… different, something he had never felt before. It was as if he knew something big was going to happen.

Maybe it wouldn't be at that exact at moment in time, or in the minutes thereafter, but he was pretty sure – no, _certain_, - that before he left New Orleans, something _major_ was going to go down. He just didn't know what.

But as he approached the concrete building with the white and green striped awning, the unfamiliar feeling in Dean's stomach was replaced with one that he knew quite well: irritation.

* * *

"No, we're still waiting for one more. He'll be here any minute, just parking the car," Scarlett informed the petite brunette waitress who nodded politely and retreated from the table. Her attention turned back to the man in front of her. "Again, I'm sorry."

Sam's forehead wrinkled in confusion. "For what?"

She shrugged. "Is everything a good enough answer?"

He let out a low chuckle. "That _is_ kind of vague."

"Right." She let out a half-hearted laugh of her own and began playing with the napkin at her place setting. "Well, I guess if I had to sum it up… it'd be for not telling you everything."

Sam leaned in and whispered, "You're two hundred and seventy six years old. There's a lot to everything, now isn't there?"

As he pulled back, she mulled it over for a few seconds. "Yes, but some are more important than other parts. I should have shared with you the important parts, the ones that matter. Well, the ones that would matter to you, anyway… it's just that they matter to your brother too and sometimes, I don't want to tell him those things. But I can't talk to you that often without talking to him." She paused and shut one eye, scrunching up her nose. "Wait, that didn't make sense."

"I got it," Sam answered, laughter racking his body. "You know, I like it when you do that."

"Do what?" she asked him curiously, her head tilting to the side.

"That." He smiled at her, leaning against the straight-backed chair.

"Ramble?"

"No, act human."

Scarlett opened her mouth to speak, but quickly shut it again as an infuriated Dean Winchester stormed over to the table. "Scarlett, what the _hell_?"

"_What_?" she shot back defensively, crossing her arms over her chest.

Dean's hands found their way to the back of the open chair tucked beneath the circular table and gripped it tightly. "A coffeehouse? You make me park four blocks away so we can sit in a _coffeehouse_? Why not just go to a Starbucks? I'm sure there's a shitload of them here…"

"First of all," she began, her teeth clenched in a smile. "It's a _café_, not a coffeehouse. Second of all, sit down. You're making a scene."

His green eyes flickered around the room briefly, only to discover that nearly half of the patrons were now staring at them. With a huff, he pulled out the chair and begrudgingly sat down. "So why are we in a…" he began, raising his hands to form quotation marks in the air with his fingers, "Café?"

Scarlett chewed on the inside of her cheek. "Right now, this place is going to do us a lot more good than any bar. Café du Monde has been open since 1862 and never closes, except for Christmas." The waitress returned, seeing they had settled in, and the only female member of the trio immediately placed their order. "We'll have three café au laits, make theirs on the strong side, and a plate of beignets." She nodded and immediately left them to their banter once more.

"I could be doing body shots in a brothel right now and you're busy ordering me fruity drinks in a café," Dean pointed out with a grumble.

"Oh for Christ's sake, it's just coffee, Dean!" she sniped at him, completely losing her patience.

A satisfied smirk crossed the elder Winchester's face. "You just used your brother's name in vain. I'm proud of you."

"You're such a dick, you know that?" She shook her head in utter disgust.

He shrugged nonchalantly, watching as the apron-clad brunette returned with a serving tray and a look of slight fear in her eye. "I've been called worse."

The woman placed down a cup and saucer filled with a toffee-colored liquid in front of Scarlett first and then two more with a darker substance in front of the brothers. Hastily, she clinked down a plate of powdered sugar-coated doughnuts and scurried away from the table.

"That doesn't surprise me," Scarlett muttered and took a quick sip of her drink. As the cup connected with the small plate beneath it, she noticed the stares had returned. "This was a mistake. I'm going to grab the bags from the car and find us a hotel. I can't be in the same room with you right now."

Dean's emerald orbs glinted mischievously. "Why, you going to kill me? Daddy wouldn't be too happy with you for that. Taking his prodigal son's name in vain… and then breaking a commandment? For shame."

Scarlett stood and picked up a beignet from the table. "Make a wish."

"Excuse me?" He eyed her in confusion.

She smiled at him forcedly, raising the pastry to her lips and blowing a gust of air that caused the powdered sugar to fly off the doughnut and coat Dean from head to shoulders. Satisfied with the dusting of sweetener taking residence on his father's leather jacket, Scarlett took a large bite of her beignet. "Sam, I'll text you when I pick a place."

And with a smoldering glance at Dean, the blonde turned on her heels and exited the café.

Frozen in place, Dean looked down at his jacket and then over at Sam. "What the _fuck_ just happened?"

"It's tradition for first-time patrons," he explained to him, biting his lip to hold back the impending laughter threatening to burst from his body. "Um…" he trailed off, reaching for a triangle of fried dough and holding it up to Dean. "My turn?"

* * *

Still seething, Scarlett kicked the door shut behind her and threw her plastic key card onto the first bed she saw. She didn't care if Dean had a thing about sleeping next to the door, _she_ was going to do what _she_ wanted and didn't give a damn what the Winchester with the middle name of Asshole wanted.

Her cell phone buzzed in her pocket and she quickly pulled it from her jeans, flipping it open to view the most recent text message.

_Dean's checking out some bars on Bourbon St., I'm still working Cafe du Monde. Should be back within the hour. – Sam_

Snapping the phone shut, Scarlett checked the clock on the nightstand as her mobile joined the keycard on the bed. The time read 3:19 am, which meant Sam would be back no later than 4:20 unless he got a good lead. Unfortunately, knowing what she did about the café, that there was a pretty good chance that happened and that meant only one thing: alone time with Dean.

Yet, the only thing worse than alone time with Dean Winchester at the moment would be alone time with a drunk Dean Winchester. And that was even _more_ likely.

Groaning in disgust, she hoisted one of the black duffel bags onto the awful floral-patterned comforter. However, after unzipping the fabric, she realized that she had picked up the wrong duffle bag and was about to re-zip it in search of her own, when something shoved next to a pair of jeans caught her eye. Careful not to disturb anything else inside, she reached into the bag and pulled out the leather-bound journal.

Scarlett's hazel eyes stared intently at the snap of the tan-colored covering, debating as to whether or not to open it. After much hemming and hawing, she decided that her life had been enough of an open book to the Winchester brothers and it was time she learned about _their_ past.

Hesitantly, she pulled on the strap and the journal opened with a low _pop_.

The first thing she laid eyes on were John's military photos and medals, four in total that she immediately recognized as the USMC Expert Rifle Badge, Bronze Star, Purple Heart, and Vietnam Service Medal. Tucked into the front fold, she found some old postcards and envelopes, as well as newspaper clippings. The further she rifled, however, the more drawings she uncovered. Some belonged to John for certain and a few probably belonged to Sam. She couldn't see Dean drawing anything more than stick figures in his entire life.

After a few minutes, Scarlett turned to a page that was in handwriting that appeared to be in all capital letters. Judging by the words accompanying some of the sketches, she recognized it as belonging to John Winchester.

Her eyes shifted to the clock once again. _3:31 am_. She had a little over forty minutes until Sam arrived back at the hotel room and until then, Scarlett decided she was going to do all of the research that she could, even if none of it actually pertained to the New Orleans vampires.

* * *

_**November 6, 1983**_

_I buried my wife today. Even as I write that down, I don't believe it. Last week, we were a normal family… eating dinner, going to Dean's T-ball game, buying toys for baby Sammy. But in an instant, it all changed… when I try to think back, get it straight in my head… I feel like I'm going crazy. Like someone ripped both my arms off, plucked my eyes out… I'm wandering around, alone and lost and I can't do anything._

_Mary used to write in these books she kept by the bed. She said it helped her remember all the little things, about the boys, me… I wish I could read her journals, but like everything else, they're gone. Burned into nothing. She always wanted me to try writing things down. Maybe she's right, maybe it will help me to remember, to understand._

* * *

_**November 13, 1983**_

_Nothing makes any sense anymore… my wife is gone, my sons are without their mother… the things I saw that night. I remember hearing Mary scream, and I ran, but then… everything was calm, for just a second – Sammy was fine – and I was sure I had been hearing things – too many horror movies too late at night. But then there was the blood, and when I looked up, my wife…._

_Half our house is gone, even though the fire burned for only a few hours. Most of our clothes and photos are ruined, even our safe – the safe with Mary's old diaries, the boys' savings bonds, what little jewelry we had… all gone. How could my house, my whole life, go up like that, so fast, so hot? How could my wife just burn up and disappear?_

_I want my wife back. Oh, God, I want her back…_

* * *

Scarlett wiped at her eyes, a familiar pain ripping at her chest, and suddenly, she found herself relating to John Winchester. She too had lost the love of her life in a fire that took virtually everything that meant anything from her.

The house had been rebuilt years later, but the memories were still there. The pain that only dulled, but never faded was still there. Most importantly, her mother, her father, and Andrew were not.

And no one understood that sense of loss like John had, not even Sam or Dean.

* * *

_**December 4, 1983**_

_Last night I was sitting in Sam and Dean's room, in the dark, and I heard these noises… Mike said it was the wind, and okay, maybe it was, but it sounded almost like whispering, like someone was whispering a name, under their breath, again and again… like something is out there in the dark, watching us… I stayed up all night, just watching them, protecting them. From what, I don't know. Am I protecting them? Am I hurting them? I haven't let them out of my sight since the fire. Dean still hardly talks. I try to make small talk, or ask him if he wants to throw the baseball around. Anything to make him feel like a normal kid again. He never budges from my side – or from his brother. Every morning when I wake up, Dean is inside the crib, arms wrapped around baby Sam. Like he's trying to protect him from whatever is out there in the night._

_Sammy cries a lot, wanting his Mom. I don't know how to stop it, and part of me doesn't want to. It breaks my heart to think that soon he won't remember her at all. I can't let her memory die._

* * *

And then there was Dean again, creeping back under her skin like he always managed to. It was incredibly frustrating, having someone you so badly wanted to trust and to understand repeatedly hurt you the way he constantly did to her, whether he realized it or not.

Scarlett understood that a lifetime of broken promises, constant loss, and perpetual sacrifice had done that to him. But it didn't make his words sting her any less.

* * *

_**December 11, 1983**_

_Sammy has finally started sleeping through the night, and now that Dean shares a bed with him, he's out like a light as well. But me… I close my eyes and she's there. It always starts the same, I'm seeing her as she was before that night, beautiful and happy and alive. And I'm not seeing it, I'm living it, it's like I'm there… it's so real, I know I can reach out and touch her. And so I do… I reach out… and suddenly I'm back to that night, to the blood and the fire and Mary, Mary is on the ceiling, and how did she get on the ceiling… she can't be on the ceiling…_

_Here's the weird part. When I wake up, sweating and panting… I swear there is something there. I can feel it, hovering over me, over my boys. It's watching, it's waiting, I think it's even mocking me… You couldn't stop this. You couldn't keep her safe. You can't keep them safe._

_Got a few things from the house today… couple of photos, a toy or two the firemen recovered. They saved one of my guns… an antique single action revolver. Won't really do much damage… but I plan to put it under my pillow tonight just the same._

* * *

Sitting at the small table in the far corner of the room, Scarlett exhaled deeply and let the open journal rest on the wood once more.

_Sammy_.

In all of this, he was forgotten. Sure, the apocalypse was as much about him as it was about Dean. Castiel's constant presence in their lives, as well as her own, was a persistent reminder of that. But in the wake of the time-old battle of Heaven and Hell, little Sammy Winchester, the six-month-old boy who would grow up without a single natural memory of his mother, was forgotten, glossed over. Swept under the rug like he'd never existed at all.

No, there was only big, bad Sam Winchester… the six foot, five inch twenty-something who had been possessed by a demon and nearly killed Jo Harvelle, become BFF's with a demon bitch, and brought on the Apocalypse.

And for that alone, Scarlett's heart broke for him more than she thought it ever could again.

* * *

_**December 25, 1983**_

_Didn't sleep again last night. Woke up in a cold sweat and realized it was Christmas. Where's Mary? That was my thought all night, and it stayed in my mind all day. Christmas without my wife seems unreal. Out celebration was clumsy… a crooked two foot tall plastic tree, a bunch of junk food stuffed in the stockings, and a pile of sports equipment for the boys… football, basketball, soccer. My attempt to bring back some normalcy. Already Dean is too big for T-ball, this year we'll be going to real Little League games. Or rather, I'll be going to the games. Alone._

_Mary will never see Dean hit a home run. She'll never see Sammy walk, or hear him say his first words. She won't take Dean to his first day at school, or stay up all night with me worrying the first night he takes the car out. It's not right that she's not here, and that's all I could think about today. I'm so angry I can barely see straight – I want my wife back._

_The police have officially declared our case closed. What a Christmas present, huh?_

* * *

"What the hell are you doing?"

Scarlett's head whipped up at once, catching sight of an enraged pair of viridian eyes. She hadn't even heard the door open. Then again, maybe he'd intentionally entered that way. Only one word managed to escape her lips. "Dean…"

"Where did you get that?" he growled at her, slamming the door behind him and causing the cheaply framed pictures of the Louisiana coast to rattle against the even tackier moss-colored wallpaper.

"I…" she stammered, caught off-guard by both his presence and her newfound information. "Um… found it accidentally."

"Accidentally?" Dean scoffed. "You went through my _shit_, Scarlett!"

Shakily, she rose to her feet, the journal still clasped firmly between her slender fingers. "No, I didn't! I unzipped the wrong bag and- "

"You just thought you'd poke around," he finished for her bitterly. "You had NO right, Scarlett! God's daughter, the second coming… _whatever_ you are! It doesn't give you the right…"

She nodded defeatedly, her blonde hair hanging limply in the air. "I know."

"Did you find what you were looking for?" Dean suddenly turned vindictive.

Her head shot up. "W-what?"

His eyes bore into hers as he approached her predatorily. "Did you at least get to the good part?"

"Dean, I-I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, come on…" Dean goaded her belligerently, his jaw clenching. "Sad old man drowning his sorrows over his dead wife in a bottle of whiskey while his boys sleep in the bed next to him. Surely, you read that part." Judging by the look of sorrow in her eyes, he knew that she had. His gaze moved to her index finger, still holding the place of the last entry she'd read. "Oh, don't you give me that look. I don't need you to pity me, Scarlett," he spat as though her name was the most revolting thing on the planet, ripping the journal from her hands. "Look, you've only got one entry left!"

"Dean," her voice wavered unsteadily, on the brink of tears. "It's enough…"

"Come on, you're getting to the big finale! You can't stop now!" he boomed at her, clearing his throat. "January 1, 1984… Today a new year begins. Mary loved this time of year; she loved the idea of a fresh start for everyone. She always made a resolution, one a year, and unlike most people, she kept hers. And every year she tried to talk me into making one, but I could never see the point. I wish I could have seen her diary. Maybe it would help me remember her. Maybe it would clue me in to some over her secrets. Maybe that's the point of a diary. Keep your stories, your life, from dying. So that other people don't forget. God I wish the boys could have known Mary for longer." He paused for a second and his eyes flickered up at her again. "And here comes the big twist…" Dean returned his gaze to the aged paper. "This year I'm making a resolution. I'm going to find out what happened to my wife."

Concluding the last journal entry, the hunter snapped the book shut and dropped it onto the bed. "Are you happy now, Scarlett? Feel better about your Daddy issues now that you know mine was a drunk, obsessed with finding his wife's killer at the expense of his own sons, the last pieces of her he had left? So much so that he drove one away?" Dean's hands balled into fists at his sides, the rage building up in his body. Fury oozing from his pores, he reached for the first thing he could find, an ashtray, and hurled it at the mirror hanging on the wall above the dresser. As soon as it connected with the glass, it shattered and shards rained upon the teal carpet. "Why did He have to take everything from us, Scarlett? Why did your father take away my mother from me, from Sammy, from my dad? And then just when we were starting to be a family again… why did he have to take Dad too?"

"I… I'm sorry, Dean," Scarlett whispered, tears carving lines down her flawless face.

"You know what… you can tell me that you're here to help us all you want. But in the end, you've got just as many issues as I do and you didn't even have to go to Hell to get some of them." Dean ran a hand, still shaking with anger, over his face. "But He can't have me and he sure as _hell_ can't have Sam. So you can tell your father whatever you want. I'm out, Scarlett…" He held up both of his palms and stepped backwards until he reached the door. "I'm done."

She pressed her lips together, still trembling. "You don't mean that."

"Really?" he challenged her, pulling open the door. "Try me."

And with a slam of the door, Dean disappeared into the night.

* * *

**A/N: I think this chapter was emotionally charged enough for you guys. If this isn't enough to get you lurkers to review, I don't know what is. Oh wait, yes I do. Nevermind.**

**I can't say much about Abandon All Hope other than it killed me. I bawled through the second half of the entire episode. I used up half a box of tissues, too. Well done, Mr. Kripke. Well done. And if you REALLY want to try to give Jensen an Emmy, my speech is yours if you want it. Jensen and Dean can have it.**

**Remember to check after all of my review responses for deleted scenes and spoilers for the next chapter!**

**Shouts Outs:**

**Klandgraf2007 – **I think that Scarlett's bout with Victor and the inmates really made her feel her impending mortality. She's going to get to Maryland and have to fight the baddest angel in the land… and no longer be invulnerable. And that scares her.

**Chocolatemud – **I was a little better this time around. This chapter took a while to write and even longer to perfect. But it had to be just so. I need it to be exactly how I wanted it. And yeah, it _is_ sad, but something is going to come of her planning in the next couple of chapters that's going to change a lot of things. MAJOR things.

**Mahlia – **Whoa, Molly! Long review ahoy! I LOVE IT! I'm glad that you liked the Colt and approved of my ending choice. I think the structure/length of this chapter made up for it. The idea of Dean being a womanizer by choice rather than habit intrigues me. It is very sad that he views his life as being solitary, save for his brother. The threat of losing Sam, or Sam losing him, is very real to him. I don't think he wants to add to that. In fact, I think he's really fearful of that. I can't even begin to tell you how much the fact that you love Scarlett means to me. I struggle with balancing her humanity and divinity and towing that line, so it does mean a lot. If you think about it, she's really half-human, but she thinks of herself as being human. It's just that she needs certain things to constantly remind her of such. Part of being human, in the real world, is the ability to feel pain and emotion, as well as possess mortality. Since she can only do two of the three things, she wants to remind herself of her humanity as much as possible. I think that, prior to this chapter, she thought she had Dean figured out. But now, this encounter with the journal really changed her perspective of him. Thanks for the great review! I hope you liked this chapter too!

**TwilightEclps – **Alright… I'm back at work! Hope you enjoyed!

**Deansqueen4 - **Yeah, Scarlett moved him in the middle of the night. And Dean was pretty silly not to think of that when she gave in quickly! She never does anything without a reason.

**Angelofthenight - **THANK YOU! I wasn't optimistic at all. Thinking about it, the two deaths were pretty safe bets. One couldn't go on without the other. And the way she went was gutwrenching, but fitting. Both of their deaths were. I'm glad Bobby made it out alive, though.

**Mrs. Sam Winchester – **Haha, Abby… I'd tell you, but then I'd have to kill you. Just joking. And it didn't come off as insulting at all… glad I'm accurate. Not sure if he experienced anything similar… but I can tell you that feeling wasn't anything supernatural, divine, or magical.

**Winchesters Are For Lovers – **This was even heavier. But you did get some banter in there. Don't worry, their relationship is perpetually evolving in ways I never even expected.

**JuliettaGabbana – **Don't apologize for the long review… I THRIVE off of long reviews. I wish I got more. And yes, thanks again for your pairing names. Perfection! Jo and Scarlett's meeting is going to be very interesting, but that won't happen until we get closer to the end of the story. And a lot of things will have gone on since they spoke on the phone. Plus, I don't think Jo likes Scarlett very much after that whole spiders incident. I purposely tried not to go into specifics about Episode 10 of this season because it's a big game changer and I want you to be surprised! What country are you from??!!?

**Lemonwedges4 – **I know, like I said… cried my eyes out!

**Tiny – **Aww, thank you! That makes me smile.

**Midnight LeAnn – **I'm sure you'll agree that this chapter was substantially heavier. By A LOT.

**Light The Dark – **Oh, yay! It really is a high compliment when a fellow fan refers to my story as a personal drug! I'm glad you think my characters are true to form and I'm interested to see if you thought that during Dean's rampage, he was true to character. Hope you like this chapter!

**SEGMENTS**

**Cutting Room Floor: **The chapter was going to end with a hysterical Scarlett calling Sam. But I like the way this one ended.

**Spoilers: **Word of advice to Dean… when you decide to hunt a next of vampires without the telekinetic chick, you're to find yourself in way over your head.

**Well, that's all, my friends. Keep checking my Twitter for further updates! I've begun posting the songs I write the chapters/scenes to as I'm writing them, so be sure to check on that too via my Twitter, a link to which is on my profile page.**

**Peace, Love, and the Metallicar!**

**Danielle**

**PS: I'm majorly depending on your reviews for this one! So please review!**


	13. Chapter 13

_A/N: Please note that I finished this story at 5:30 in the morning... so do forgive any typos. I will go back and fix them when I'm lucid again!_

_

* * *

_

Sam smiled to himself as he made his way out the door, swallowing the last bite of his beignet. Dean had been wrong about the café being useless. In fact, it had given him more leads in a single hour than they often got in days or weeks of recon.

Rubbing the white dust off his large hands, a chuckle escaped his lips. He'd never be able to look at powdered sugar in the same way again. Continuing to laugh, he reached for his cell phone and selected _Scarlett_ from his contacts. But when the phone rang five times and went straight to voicemail, the grin disappeared from his face.

It took him about two minutes to walk to the traffic light on the corner of Decatur and Royal. Yet, she still hadn't called him back. He reached for his phone again and pressed _send_. Her voice told him to leave a message and she'd get back to him as soon as she could. He flipped the phone shut and quickened his loping strides.

Something was wrong.

* * *

The door to the hotel burst open, the doorknob colliding with the green wall and sending the pictures clattering again.

Scarlett's head snapped up in fear, afraid that Dean had come back for a second helping of cruelty. But when she was the lanky silhouette of Sam Winchester in the doorway, she exhaled a shaky breath.

"Scarlett?" His eyes took in every detail of her body, leaning against the headboard. Her slender arms were wrapped around her knees, tucked firmly against her chest. The chin that rested on her knees was moist with tears, the tracks of which were easily discernible on her cheeks. Her normally vibrant hazel eyes were watery and her lashes were matted to her face by a combination of teardrops and what appeared to be mascara. "I kept calling and calling."

"I know, I…" she answered and then sniffled, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. "I just couldn't, Sam. I just _couldn't_."

Leaning the back of his shoulder against the wood, he pushed it shut and stepped towards the bed. "What _happened_?"

The blonde averted his gaze and stared at a particular flower on the comforter as she felt his weight press on the mattress. "I found the journal…"

"Dad's journal?" Sam asked her and she nodded. "So, you found my dad's journal? Big deal."

She shook her head vehemently. "I read it, Sam… and he caught me."

"Dean?" His voice instantly dropped, hitting a new low. "Dean did this to you?" She nodded again, more tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. "Where did he go?"

"I-I don't know," she stammered weakly. "Probably Bourbon Street. That's where I'd go."

The younger brother's phone buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out with his squared fingers, staring at the outer screen. "Look who it is…"

"Sam!" Her hand shot out and latched onto his forearm as he stood. "No!"

"Dean," he deadpanned, holding the open phone to his ear.

"Mr. Sunshine," Dean retorted and Sam could hear him chugging liquid, most likely beer, immediately thereafter. "Pack your stuff, we're going headhunting."

Sam pulled his cell away from his ear and pressed the speaker button. "You found them? Where?"

Dean could barely contain himself. "A brothel."

The taller hunter's eyes rolled. "Dean, don't make excuses to visit a whorehouse."

"I'm telling you man, I spoke to these two chicks tonight. And they're there... old Italian vamps. Everyone's busy looking in deserted areas, but they've got it figured out. Then again, so do we," he added smugly.

"It makes sense," Scarlett piped up. "Hidden in plain sight. It's perfect."

Sam nodded and pulled his laptop from his duffel back, placing it on the small circular table. "Where are we meeting you?"

"_You're_ meeting me outside the bar," he replied, the sound of glass colliding with a countertop audible in the background. "I don't care what _she_ does."

His eyes flickered to Scarlett who swallowed with much difficulty and turned away from him. Sam switched the phone off speaker and pressed it to his ear. "I'm not going to just leave her, Dean."

"Why not, she's already gone through our shit? Nothing else left for her to do."

"You're really not being fair…" he returned in a disappointed tone. The words left his mouth before he could catch himself and Dean was silent for a moment.

"Her father let our mother burn on the ceiling of our house," Dean began, his voice already on the rise. "He let me nearly die in that car crash, only to have Dad die in my place. He took you from me, Sammy, and then he let me die when I saved you. So no," he snapped at him. "I _don't_ have to be fair." The silence between the brothers was deafening. "Look, Sam, if you're not outside the bar by sunrise, I'm going after them without you."

"But- " Sam attempted to interject, but was cut off by the end of the connection. He sighed loudly and sat back down on the bed next to Scarlett. "You're right, he is a dick." The corner of her mouth twitched and Sam was encouraged.

"Sam, listen to me…" She looked up at him, wiping her face in the sleeve of her brown thermal zip-up. "You have to go with him."

He placed his hand on her leg and shook his head. "You don't have to do this."

"Yeah, I do. You can't let him go in there by himself. He's pissed and that's not going to help his judgment. Look…" She ran her hands through her hair. "Right now, I _hate_ your brother. I really, _really_ hate him. But that doesn't mean I want anything to happen to him out there. " Her gaze dropped to the ring on her right hand and she twirled it around her finger before looking up again. "And as much as I want to take a twelve-gauge to his kneecap at the moment, he is mankind's last hope."

* * *

As the mustard-colored cab pulled up to the bar, Sam immediately spotted his brother's trademark vehicle parked outside. Upon further study after paying the driver, he noted his brother looked more surly than usual. A few steps later, he pulled on the passenger-side handle.

"I'm impressed that you showed," Dean remarked, shifting into drive before Sam could shut the door.

"Why?" he asked in response, managing to close it before he pulled away. "Did you really think I'd let you hunt alone?"

"Wouldn't be the first time you made a bad judgment call," Dean stated nonchalantly, glancing in the rear-view mirror.

Sam's jaw clenched instantly. "Don't turn this into something it's not."

Dean's tongue pressed against the roof of his mouth as he nodded silently. "So what's the plan?"

"We go in as customers and figure out which ones are the bloodsuckers. Then we cut their heads off."

His younger brother's eyes furrowed together. "That's your brilliant plan?"

"Uh… _yeah_."

"How are we supposed to figure it out, Dean?" Sam swiveled to face him as he drove. "Shove our tongues in their mouths and feel around for an extra set of teeth?" Dean's lips formed a smirk as his eyebrows raised. "Dean!"

"Alright, alright…" he acquiesced. "The girl at the bar told me that every guy that went missing was… uh… _scheduled_ with one of two girls: Rita or Lexi. So, we can each take one… and slice 'em."

"And if they're…" Sam searched for the appropriate word. "_Occupied_?"

Dean's smirk grew and brought his brother to a new level of discomfort. "They won't be."

The taller hunter's head tilted to the side accusatorily. "Dean… what did you do?"

"Let's just say we're going to be right on time."

* * *

Blubbering like a hormonal teenage girl had never been Scarlett's style and she wasn't about to adopt that trait after living without it for two-hundred and seventy six years. No, she would _not_ let Dean Winchester ruin her like that.

Instead, she dried her eyes, fixed her makeup, and went to the one place she had failed to enjoy upon her return to New Orleans: Café du Monde. It was approaching five in the morning by the time she had taken a seat at one of the tables near the back of the restaurant.

Interestingly enough, the same mousy brunette was in the middle of her shift and had been assigned her table, yet again. She made a mental note to leave her a very generous tip for the inconvenience of dealing with Dean. "Back so soon?"

Scarlett smiled at her. "Didn't get to enjoy it early and I haven't been here in a while. Figured I'd come back by myself."

She nodded, tucking a strand of mahogany hair behind her ear. "The tall one your boyfriend?"

The blonde laughed, "No, he's not. Just a good friend I happen to be working with on a project at the moment."

"He and his brother fought like a pitbull and a Tabby cat!" she exclaimed in a much brighter tone than she had spoken in hours ago.

"Hard to believe it, right?" She added with amusement.

"Well, their loss. You know what they say about all work and no play. Same order as last time?" the woman with the name tag that read Antonia asked as she pulled out a pad and pen. Scarlett nodded and Antonia turned around, headed for the kitchen.

* * *

Dean couldn't help but laugh at the look on his brother's face as Lexi led him into a room down the hall. He was absolutely mortified.

But he couldn't forget why they were there – _scratch that – _Dean couldn't forget why they were there, despite the auburn haired beauty in a purple satin robe that was gently pushing the door shut behind him.

And as Dean began to think of all the men that had gone missing, as well as the few that had turned up on the banks of the Mississippi River without a trace of blood left in their veins, he suddenly became conscious of the long fillet knife strapped to his right calf.

Yet, before he knew it, the blade wasn't the only metal he felt against his skin.

* * *

From the moment Antonia walked away from the table, Scarlett felt an unsettling feeling of paranoia wash over her.

How had the previously meek waitress done a complete one-eighty in less than two hours? And how the _hell_ had she known they were brothers? It was never mentioned in conversation while she was there.

_While she was there_.

Scarlett exhaled deeply and fought the urge to smack herself in the forehead. They must have mentioned it while she was at the hotel room. Her head dropped and she shook it with amusement, internally poking fun at herself for jumping to conclusions. Yet, studying her hands, she concluded that they were filthy, smudged with gray and black from the ink of newspaper clippings in John's journal.

Leaving her black zip-up hoodie with the fleur de lis on the back of her chair, she stood and walked to the bathroom. _I remember when this place had an outhouse for a bathroom._

Approaching the door, she noticed Antonia through the circular window of the kitchen door to her left, slicing up a cinnamon stick that was likely for someone's café au lait. Preoccupied with the movement of another waitress, her focus was diverted long enough for the knife to slice halfway through her finger.

She hissed in pain and Scarlett took a step towards the door. But as she watched the wound magically repair in a way that was all too familiar, the blonde froze.

* * *

"Okay, this is getting a little too kinky for my tastes," Dean laughed nervously, tugging on his handcuffs as the prostitute's eyes narrowed in on him predatorily.

"Tsk, tsk, Mr. Winchester," Rita clicked her tongue at him disapprovingly. "Like you're actually here for a good time." She paused to reassess her statement, her lips drawing back to reveal a smile full of vampire fangs. "Well, for _your _good time, anyway."

Staring up at her, Dean realized that she was just toying with him. But all he needed to do was to extend that process, long enough for him to form a plan. "How did you know?"

Rita's smile, if possible, became even more sinister. "Oh, let's just say I found out over some coffee talk."

* * *

After unlocking the Honda Civic left a few blocks away from the café, Scarlett hopped inside and pressed her hand against the dashboard. A few seconds later, the car roared to life and she sped off into the dusky night.

The brothel, the Italians, the bar… it all made sense now.

It had all been a setup. The two women Dean had met at the bar were two of the vampires and the person Sam had gotten the information from at the café was Antonia, who also had a pretty impressive set of fangs.

As Scarlett glanced down at the blood splashed on the arms and chest of her jacket, she realized _had_ was the operative word in the aforementioned thought. The best actress of the vampire nest hadn't seen Scarlett and the butcher knife she'd lifted from the kitchen coming at her and hopefully…

Neither would the rest of them.

* * *

"So what are you going to do, Rita? Kill me?"

"It's Marguerita." Rita's eyebrows shot to the ceiling. "And I'm not going to kill you _or_ your brother."

Off in the distance, Dean could swear he heard Sam yelling. "Care you share your diabolical plan? Although, you forgot to cackle."

"Always the joker, Dean," Marguerita laughed haughtily, flipping her hair over her shoulder as she leaned over him. "I hope you remain that way for eternity. I do find you quite amusing."

The hunter arched an eyebrow. "Eternity?"

"Oh, silly Dean. I'm not going to kill you or Sam… because I'm going to turn you." Dean's jaw tightened as her sneer chilled him to the core. Yet, before he could find a response, her cell phone vibrated on the table and she read the text message. "Just as soon as I take care of a little problem."

* * *

The platinum blonde who referred to herself as Lexi, but was born Alexandria, had deserted Sam a little over forty-five minutes ago according to the clock sitting beside the bed. In the three quarters of an hour she had disappeared, Sam had managed to use the heel of his boot to draw the knife she'd tossed away closer to him. After a few more machinations that involved sandwiching the handle of the blade between his boots, it was finally back in his hands and he was prepared to conceal it long enough to get a shot at her neck.

No sooner did he have the weapon grasped between his fingers when he heard the wood floor creak beneath the weight of feminine feet. The door groaned in protest as she pushed it open and her shadow began to engulf him.

Her feet now fully at his side, Sam turned to strike and buried the blade into the flesh beside his face.

* * *

A little less than an hour later, Marguerita reappeared in the room and if Dean didn't know any better, she was a little more flustered than she had been when she'd left. Internally, he sighed. He still had yet to come up with a plan.

"Now…" she sized him up like a piece of meat as she stalked over to him. "Where were we?" she asked, placing her hands on her hips. Moving forward again, she pushed Dean's head to the side, exposing his neck. "Ah, here were are. Don't worry, this won't hurt… for _too_ long."

What happened in the few seconds following Rita's words was lost on Dean; everything had occurred in a blur. But when those moments had passed, he finally came to his senses, just in time to see a buxom, blonde woman he mentally identified as Lexi freeze the brunette where she stood. A few seconds later, the abandoned fillet knife she was wielding slice through her virtually impenetrable skin.

Her head flew away from her rapidly-falling body and rolled a few feet, finally setting by Dean. "I could make a really good, inappropriate joke here."

"Spare me," the woman retorted and Dean looked up.

The woman was not Lexi, as he had thought mere moments ago. "Scarlett?"

She was hovered over what remained of Rita's body, blood dripping from her clothing and trailing behind her in streaks. Her previously caramel hair was now coated in crimson and matted to her head. She reached up and wiped some of the fresh splatters caused by the brunette's death off her forehead with her right arm, the meat cleaver still clenched in her fist. "Hi, Dean."

His green eyes now focused, he studied the damage done to her body in the fight. The normally flawless skin of her face was marred by two slash marks, slowly beginning to close on their own, and there was a bruise already yellowing on her left forearm. Her black tee shirt was ripped at the neckline, two cuts taken out of the midriff, and her jeans had a noticeable gauge mark in one of the legs. It was then he realized that a dried smattering of blood surrounded the chunk of fabric missing. "You were stabbed?"

She chuckled lowly as her eyes shifted away from Dean and it was then he realized his brother was now in the room. "Let's just call it friendly fire."

The older Winchester shook his head and winced as he straightened himself further up the cedar wall he was pressed against. His eyes fell on Sam, whose shoulders hunched in response, and it was then he noticed Scarlett's black hooded sweatshirt was clutched in his arms. He shuffled over to her and extended his the item of clothing to her. It was then Dean began to assume most of the blood on that fabric was actually hers. "I thought she had come back."

Scarlett pushed the jacket away. "I'm fine, it's almost all closed up now."

Sam nodded and recoiled. "You should, um… you should tell Dean what happened."

"What do you mean _what happened_?" Dean's head tilted to the side.

The woman knelt down beside the decapitated body, hissing at the pain ripping through her leg where the wound had still yet to heal. Reaching into one of the robe's pockets, she extracted a key ring with only one silver piece dangling from it and took a few steps towards the handcuffed man "It was a setup… all of it." She crouched down again, biting on her lip to keep from gasping, as she unlocked Dean from his bounds. "Sam, who did you get your information from?"

"The waitress at the café," he answered without hesitation and then clarified, "Antonia."

"And Dean?" She turned back to him. "What were the names of those girls at the bar?"

"Theresa and Victoria," he replied, rubbing his wrist where the cuffs had been removed.

Scarlett smiled satisfactorily. "Antonia, Theresa, Victoria, Marguerita, Alexandria…" she looked between the brothers. "Drawing a connection, here?"

"They're all Italian names," Dean marveled, absentmindedly scratching at his stubbly jaw. "So you're saying they were all vampires?"

She nodded in confirmation. "Every girl in this place was a vampire. We were just lead to believe differently. They were waiting for us."

"Us… as in the three of us?"

"They were planning on taking the Colt from you," Scarlett started. "And using it on me. When I say they knew everything, they knew _everything_."

"So…" Dean slowly got to his feet, tugging down the worn leather jacket that rest on his shoulders. "What do we do now?"

"Sam and I are going to take care of Theresa and Victoria as soon as you tell me the name of the bar," she stated simply, returning to her upright form.

He crossed his arms over his chest. "You think I'm letting you go without me?"

Scarlett's eyes immediately darkened. "I don't care what you're _letting_ me do. You obviously don't trust me enough to do anything of any importance. If I had my way, I wouldn't even be taking Sam with me. But I'm doing it as a courtesy to you."

"Oh, yeah," Dean shot back sarcastically. "Putting my brother in the line of fire is definitely a _courtesy_."

"For God's sake, Winchester!" Scarlett snapped at him, shoving him hard enough that he took a few steps back to regain his balance. "I'm not going to let anything happen to Sam! I've saved you from Lucifer and made sure I went back for Sam… I took a _bullet_ for you, Dean." Her jaw clenched at the remembrance of the hot pain that raked through her body. "I hotwire a car to get here so that I could single-handedly fight off an army of thousand-year old vampires in order to save the both of you… and yet, you _still_ have issues trusting me?" She shook her head, glancing away from him and heading for the door. "I just don't even want to look at you anymore." She sighed and turned back to Sam. "I'm going to try and find some decent clothes in this place. I'll wait for you in my car."

* * *

The Impala pulled into the horseshoe-shaped driveway of the upscale hotel. This was another one of Scarlett's brilliant ideas. Dean had always been perfectly happy with the run of the mill motels all three Winchesters had taken a penchant while on the hunt. But no, _she_ had to come along and pick some fancy, swanky hotel.

One that had valets… who all had the audacity to ask him for his car keys. And while he relinquished them after a few moments of hesitation, he still wasn't happy about it.

He walked through the automatic doors and into the lobby, his dirty black boots leaving track marks across the brown carpet of the Andrew Jackson Hotel that would most likely go unnoticed for a few hours. His green eyes glanced around the room. This wasn't as bad as he'd initially thought. There were plenty of attractive cocktail waitresses and hotel guests to go around, should he be inclined to test the waters. Passing the concierge, he spotted a couple in white robes embroidered with the hotel's logo and towels, deciding there was a swimming pool he might want to scope out before they left. Well, whenever they left.

The ride up the elevator was short, although the decision to actually take the elevator instead of the stairs had likely taken longer to contemplate than the actual ride. But damn it, he had busted his ass that day and come pretty close to death yet again. He _deserved_ an elevator ride.

Slipping his card key – as opposed to the typical gold key from the low-end joints – into the slot, Dean waited for the light to turn green and pushed open the door. He looked over the room in more detail this time, realizing he'd been too busy yelling at the blonde woman along for the ride to notice it.

Scarlett has sprung for the Petite Suite, of which there were only three in the thirty-eight room accommodations. The floors were tiled with antique charcoal, brown, and deep red tile, which matched the ornate crimson blanket, woven with gold, grey, and green threads. Behind the beds, natural oak wood had been beveled and mounted to the walls, matching the oak ceiling fan. Scattered around the room were the gold-framed paintings that Dean had rattled earlier that morning and a few antique lamps.

The most intriguing feature, however, was the veranda that clearly overlooked the swimming pool. Stepping out of his boots and kicking them off into some far corner of the room, Dean made his way onto the patio. Sure enough, the pool he was so desperate to check out was directly below him… as were some toned women in bikinis.

But just as he was about to select one to be his conquest for the evening, something on the white wrought-iron table beside him caught his eye. He reached for it, holding it closer for further inspection.

It was tan in color, clearly worn by age, and strapped together with an even shoddier buckle. He looked behind him, checking to see if anyone was watching, and when he was sure that he was the only one in the room, he popped it open with ease. He read the first page, nearly dropping it in shock.

_Property of S.E.L._

"Scarlett?" he asked aloud to no one in particular, tilting his head in disbelief.

Instinctively, Dean was ready to shut the journal. It was not his, nor was it Sam's or his father's, it was _Scarlett's_. And it was pretty certain that meant it was not for his eyes.

Then again, she had invaded his privacy and delved into John's journal without hesitation or haste. Scarlett had done what she wanted without regard for either Winchester brother. It was _his_ turn to find out the Lucas family laundry.

With resolve, Dean flipped the page, but was disappointed to find there were only two pages of writing in the entire journal.

* * *

_**The Last Will and Testament of Scarlett Elizabeth Lucas**_

_In the event of my death, I have written this document while of sound body and mind. I declare that my legal power of attorney is one, Robert Steven Singer and he is to carry all of my divisions and declarations in this document. All decrees made in the following paragraphs are my certain wishes and should be followed explicitly._

_First and foremost, Bobby, the Mustang goes to Sam. I know he is not the greatest person in the world when it comes to knowledge of cars, but it is one of few possessions I have that mean a great deal to me and I want him to have it. One of my motorcycles belongs to him, as well. _

_The other motorcycle belongs to Dean. I don't know if he's ever ridden one, but for some reason, I have a nagging suspicion that he has. Regardless, it will be his._

_I want my properties to be divided up in the following ways. My condo in Los Feliz, my penthouse in the Flatiron District of New York City, and my house in upstate New York go to Sam. I know that he's going to do great things once he is able to live the normal life he's always wanted, when he finishes up school. I want him to have a place to call his own on both coasts, whichever city he decides to practice in, and to have a place to just feel at one with nature and himself in. My only request is that he hire an experienced gardener to tend to my plants in the yard. They were my mothers and one of only a few pieces of her that survived the fire._

_My ranch in Texas and house in Kansas are to be left to Dean. The ranch life will suit him very well and I think he'll enjoy the neighborhood. As for the Kansas house, I don't want him to forget where he came from. I know a part of him wants to go home, to remember. And I never want him to forget._

_Attached to this letter is the location of a safety deposit box in Seattle that has all of the deeds to my various properties, as well as all of my bank books. There should be somewhere around ten of them, each set up in various banks. Don't worry, there is a branch of each one located within Seattle._

_The money is to be split three ways, forty percent goes to Sam, forty percent goes to Dean, and twenty percent goes to you, for everything you've done for me and the boys. There is enough money between the ten accounts for each of you to live comfortably for the rest of your lives. That means no more fake aliases or stolen credit cards. You can all live one hundred percent legitimate lives. _

_As for the rest of the properties, the two boys can divide them amongst each other. Whatever they do not want, I wish them to be liquidated and the money divided up the same way as the bank accounts._

_The few family heirlooms I possess are to go to Sam and Dean's future children. Once this whole mess is over, I know they will start their own families. There is a piece of jewelry for every son and daughter each could have, as well as the wives._

_My ammunitions are to be divided among the three of you, but I want my prized Colt to go to Dean. You three can fight over the rest._

_In the event something should happen to both Sam and I, Dean absorbs everything I had set aside for Sam. Should something happen to all three of us, everything is yours, Bobby. In the case that at the time of my death, Sam and Bobby are deceased, Dean is to receive everything._

_But I realize that in all likelihood, I will be the one to perish and I've come to accept that. I just ask that you take care of the boys for me, even Dean. Because I've never loved anyone in the same way I've loved Sam and Dean Winchester.__

And as the worn-down leather slipped through his fingers, Dean Winchester felt something he hadn't felt in many years: he felt stupid.

* * *

**A/N: I know that it's been a really long time since I updated and I apologize. However, finals are upon me and I have been overwhelmed. But Sam, Dean, and Scarlett have been poking around in the back of my mind and… well… they've become too hard to ignore any longer!**

**I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. There was a little more action in this one, but a lot of meaningful moments, as well. I think these last two chapters were the first time you could see just how much of an influence the Winchesters are starting to have on Scarlett's life, from Dean's accusations to Sam's comfort and then, ultimately, the journal she alluded to a few chapters earlier.**

**You guys were PHENOMENAL with the 16 reviews for Chapter 12. So much so, that I'm going to give you an **_**extra special**_** spoiler for the next chapter. But you have to get through the responses first!**

**Shout outs!**

**Superloudean – **Thank you SO much! I'm glad you've enjoyed it so far. Believe me, it means a lot that you've jumped on the bandwagon now and are reviewing.

**Mahlia – **Nope, it's not wrong at all. Angry!Sam and Angry!Dean are quite sexy. The boys do seem to have an affinity for bottling anger, now don't they? I'm glad you liked the little wrench in the last chapter that was Gabriel. Wait until they find out he's the Trickster… hint hint. As for Scarlett's reaction to her anger, I think that her humanity is something I'm constantly trying to assert. I think that Dean (not so much Sam) forgets that she _is_ human and _does_ make mistakes. Two-hundred plus years of experience doesn't mean that she can't make mistakes. Granted, she won't make as many on an intellectual level, but her social interaction has been limited to passing acquaintances as far as humans go. She doesn't really know what it's like to maintain friendships, which is something I strongly believe that everyone, Sam, Dean, and myself included, forget. I'm glad my little details add something… all of the places _are_ real and are places I'd definitely suggest if you ever go to NOLA! And again, don't apologize for long reviews. I RELISH them… as you can tell by my response!

**Nehasupnfan – **I know, I know. I'm evil. I try! Haha, but I'm glad you liked the last one! Hope you like this too!

**RubberDucky – **Oh girl, I was reaching for tissues at the end after reading the chapter in its entirety. Sorry about that! But I'm glad you can envision the scene unfolding in front of you. I try to write them as though they were episodes, although sometimes adventures or hunts, such as this Vampire hunt in New Orleans, need to be broken up. And ah! I have a biggest fan!!!

**Peridot809 – **Thrilled you like it!

**TinyCamilli – **Oh boy, I have a biggest fan and NOW I have an addict? I truly am honored!

**Midnight LeAnn – **Things are about to get a heck of a lot heavier too!

**Lady Rayvynne – **First off, I did read Side of a Bullet and I believe I reviewed it. If not, let me know… I'll go back and do so. My internet is often screwy! As far as IODH goes, I'm thrilled you found that confrontation solid. I was afraid of making Scarlett too weepy, but I was also a little too fearful of making her bounce back too fast in this chapter. What'd you think?

**WinchesterAngel3389 – **Ahh, Marina… haven't heard from you in a little while! Glad you're back! I am incredibly happy that you felt moved by their confrontation and the fact that it's the best yet… well, I'm floored. I think that Ellen and Jo went out in the best way that they could, but I stilled was crying for a half an hour. My mom called me to ask me a question and immediately went into overprotective, hysterical mom mode. I had to explain to her that the episode was just really sad. She now thinks I need to get out more!

**Light the Dark – **Thank you SO MUCH! I try to imagine Jensen saying the lines as Dean whenever I write dialogue. It helps me firm up each character's lines and allows me to picture whether or not Dean would actually say those lines.

**Lois87 – **Man, I should have bought stock in Kleenex before publishing this chapter! I seem to have made all of you cry! Oh well, this next chapter will make you smile.

**Klandgraf2007 – **Thanks so much! I appreciate that!

**JulietaGabbana – **It was definitely an emotionally heavy chapter. I think that on some level, Scarlett knows the disaster that is Dean's mental states, but she holds onto the hope that he can find a way to move past that when she discusses things with him. And clearly, Dean wasn't done with stupid because look what he has gone and done! That boy gets himself into some foolish situations. As for Scarlett and Jo, they will meet much closer to the end of story. I feel as though the last episode of Season 4 occurred in August, so the story's end will occur in September. That being said, they'll probably meet in the beginning of September and the season won't be the only thing that will have changed by then. You could totally watch everything online… I so wouldn't blame you. Do you have any idea how many times I must watch the promos before the actual show airs? God, a LOT! I try not to spoil it for you because some of the surprises are SO worth the element of shock! I hope you're enjoying South Africa… I'd say something witty to you in Portuguese, but I only know one other language and that's Spanish. But I'll work on something for your next review! Promise!

**Lemonwedges4 – **I know… how sad is the lack of episodes?!? But I managed to acquire all four seasons for twelve dollars a piece on Black Friday, so I'll be watching them over vacation. Did I mention that I'm driving down with my family to Florida? That takes twenty-six hours. I can finish all of a season by then. Jeez.

**Ferbear – **Thank you!

**Jess-Tyson – **Glad you liked it!

**And your favorite segments with a LITTLE surprise twist… that is if you're up for a challenge!**

**Cutting Room Floor – **Initially, Scarlett was going to fight her way through the entire brother by herself and defeat both Rita and Lexi out of a scene. But I thought having her defeat Rita in front of Dean was more effective. That… and having Sam accidentally stab her, thinking she was Lexi.

**Spoilers: **While out at a bar, Dean's drink of choice is a purple nurple… and you know that NEVER means anything good. Also, Scarlett makes a discovery that alters Dean's outlook on life and religion, while completely altering her own existence.

**CHALLENGE: **Normally, I don't put in story requests or challenges in the slightest… but I had a really weird dream the other night involving Oliver Queen (The Green Arrow) in Smallville and I need to satisfy my craving for Mr. Queen. I would be super appreciative of a fic about myself and good 'ole Ollie (one-shot or chapter, you choose)… so much so that I would handsomely reward you with an exclusive preview of the next chapter that will likely blow your mind, in addition to including you as an original character in either Chapter 14 or Chapter 15 or maybe even both!

Now, I know for those of you who don't watch Smallville, that doesn't seem fair. So if you'd like to write a pairing for Dean and I (also one-shot or chapter), that's okay too. You can still receive an exclusive spoiler!

ALL FICS THAT ARE WRITTEN will receive an exclusive spoiler. The best Ollie/Danielle story will receive a write-in as an original character!

If you do write a story, please PM me the link to the story! If you have any questions about the contest... or need any info about me personally for the contest, feel free to PM me. I'll get back to you ASAP!

**Anyway, good luck with all of your finals/exams/papers/etc. And I promise I will do my best to get in some updates while I'm on vacation, which starts next Tuesday!**

**With wishes for a great week and much love for the Metallicar,**

**Danielle**


	14. Chapter 14

"The look on her face was priceless," Sam laughed, pushing the door to the hotel room open.

Scarlett entered behind him, flipping her blonde hair away from her face as she joined her friend in laughter. "Two thousand years old and she didn't know by now that vampires aren't the only invincible creatures out there? Come on."

"But still…" he shook his head at her, kicking the door shut. "When you pulled the blade out of your neck… and she tried to drink your blood…"

"Wait a second!" a voice called out from well beyond the door and upon visually searching the room, they found Dean standing out on the balcony. "A vampire tried to drink your blood?"

She nodded, but then waved him off. "Tried being the operative word. The wound closed up pretty fast. Caught her off-guard. I didn't really get to see her total reaction because Sammy here deprived me."

"Hey." He held up his hands in mock defense. "I cut her _head_ off. Next time, let me know if you want to delay decapitation, okay?"

"Deal," she answered with a slight chuckle. "So what did you do while we were gone, Winchester? Hire a hooker?"

Dean's face grew stern uncharacteristically. "Hey, Sam? Can you give us a few minutes?" He held his breath in anticipation, but not of his brother's guaranteed yes. More so for Scarlett's reaction.

Sam nodded and glanced down at the blonde. "You gonna be okay?"

She chewed it over for a moment. "Physically or emotionally?"

"Both."

"Yeah, I'll be alright," Scarlett decided quickly.

"I'm gonna go call Bobby and give him an update. I'll be back in twenty," Sam informed them, grabbing his laptop and heading for the door. Scarlett's attention diverted to the bathroom, where she was headed to wash her blood-caked hands, Sam caught his brother's attention and mouthed, "_Don't be a dick."_

Sarcastically, Dean saluted him and the younger Winchester rolled his eyes as he pulled the door shut behind him. "So…" he cleared his throat awkwardly as the water began to flow from the faucet. "How did the bar go?"

"Really, Dean?" she laughed bitterly, watching him carefully in the mirror as he leaned against the doorframe. "You're really going to do this?"

"Do what?" he asked her as she shut off the water and began to dry her hands on the towels behind her.

"Make small talk," she retorted quickly, folding her dried hands over her chest.

The hunter used the arm pressed against the door to rub a hand through his hair. "I, uh…"

"You say the most hurtful, venomous things you can possibly say to me and then, after I save your ass, you can't even admit to me that you're wrong. Instead, you tell me you can't trust me." She shook her head at him angrily and her eyes dropped to the marble floor. "I didn't even want an apology, Dean. I just wanted you to acknowledge that I'm not as bad as you think I am because despite what you think, I _am_ human. I _do_ have feelings and I'm not emotionally invincible." She looked up at him expectantly, but when he finally opened his mouth, Scarlett pushed past him and back into the room. "Save it. I'd rather hear silence than another one of your snappy comebacks."

"Scarlett…" His rough hand wrapped around her forearm and the force of her pull in the opposite direction, jerked her body back towards him. "Wait."

Her hardened eyes locked on his. "_What_?"

He faltered for a moment, caught off guard by her overt animosity. "I'm sorry."

Scarlett did a double-take. "Come again?"

"I said I'm sorry," Dean repeated in a tone that was much softer than she'd grown accustomed to. "I was wrong."

"Hold on a second." She pulled her arm out of his grasp and backpedaled. "You just said that you were sorry _and_ admitted you were wrong?" The blonde asked him to which he nodded. "I have to get Sam."

Dean rolled his eyes and turned away from her, walking towards the veranda. "Can you not cheapen the moment?"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she laughed, following him with a few quick strides. "Sarcasm is my way of coping with surprise."

"So…" Dean gripped the white iron railing, his fingers curling around the ornate metal. He looked over at her, his deep emerald eyes falling on her face. "We good?"

Scarlett nodded slowly, looking out over the pool. "Yeah, we're good."

"Good," he agreed with a nod of his own and noticed the grin that had cracked her face. "What?"

"I'm just wondering…" She shook her head in amazement, her honey-colored hair cascading down her back. "What brought you to this grand epiphany?"

Dean slowly reached into his brown leather jacket and retrieved a book from its hidden pocket. Turning towards Scarlett, he held out the worn tan journal she quickly recognized as her own. "I might have done some investigating of my own. You know… out of curiosity."

"Out of curiosity, huh?" She smiled knowingly. "Well, I can't say that I blame you. I mean, the journal of the two-hundred and seventy six year old daughter of God has to be an interesting read."

"If it makes any difference at all, I didn't get past the two loose pages," Dean admitted. "After that, I didn't need to read anymore."

She nodded, looking back into the horizon before them again. She was savoring the moment, a short time of peace between her and the older of the Winchester brothers next to her. They rarely could stand being in the same room together, but for the first time, as she stood beside Dean Winchester, Scarlett Lucas felt as though she understood him. And more likely than not, it was because she'd read his father's journal.

So while Dean had spewed insults in her direction that had burned her to the very core, deep down, Scarlett knew it was worth it.

"I have a confession to make," she announced suddenly, chewing on her lip in a way that greatly intrigued him.

He winced uncomfortably. "You're better off finding a priest. I'm not exactly a moral compass for ideal behavior."

"Not that kind of confession, Dean," she snorted, looking back in his direction. "Don't get too excited."

He let out a relieved laugh. "Lay it on me."

"I wanted you to read it," she admitted. "Well, either you or Sam. I told Bobby that in the case something should happen to me, one of you boys would know where it was."

"I feel a lot better then," he chortled, pulling on the railing as he leaned back. "And for what it's worth, I know I'm not the most… _open_ of people. I've told Sam a thousand times that if you keep things to yourself, they'll eat you alive and I know I have some aversion to my own advice. I'm actually kind of relieved that you read my dad's journal. No secrets. No surprises."

Scarlett's eyebrows shot to the roof in response. "I should pull my gun on you and accuse you of being a shapeshifter, you know that?"

"I think we've had enough excitement for one day," he let out a deep laugh that reminded her vaguely of gravel. "So what's our plan of action now?"

"I figure we'll stay and extra day and leave in the morning," the blonde replied with a bounce of her shoulders. "We don't have a case as of yet and I think after tonight's _excitement_, we deserve a little rest. Whatever Sam finds can wait until morning."

"I like the sound of that," Dean smirked with satisfaction. "Maybe we'll get a case somewhere worth losing a couple of days for a change."

"Why, you didn't like New Orleans? I thought it'd be right up your alley, with all the legal prostitution and drinking…"

"I take offense to that!" Dean shot back with the slightest hint of amusement. "How dare you assume I would _pay_ for the company of a woman!"

"Because you just have the _greatest_ of personalities," she retorted, arching an eyebrow in response.

But just as Dean was about to reply with a sharp response, the familiar opening guitar chords of his ringtone cut through the air. Wasting no time, he pulled it from his outer left pocket and flipped it open. "Whatcha find, Sammy?"

"Actually, it found us," Sam's voice crackled over the speaker. "I had Dad's phone on me and it rang."

Dean paused for a minute and his eyes caught the woman's stare opposite him. "What's the case?"

"One student turned up dead on the Rutgers University campus and one's currently hospitalized," Sam began, reading from his notes. "The police reported she said that she saw a girl with a violin crying in the auditorium. When she went over to see if the girl was okay, she attacked her then vanished."

"What's the damage?"

"She has lacerations on her neck, face, and chest," he replied. "Guess what caused them?"

"Violin bow," Scarlett stated immediately. "How quaint."

Dean snorted. "What's the guy's name?"

There was the audible shuffling of papers before Sam turned his attention back to the phone. "George Stauffer, Dean of the Mason Gross School of the Arts. Ring any bells?"

His brother tilted his head in thought. "You said he's at Rutgers?" He continued to try and recall where he knew the name from. "Wait, I think Dad and I helped a guy out up in New York with that name. At a college… Hunter College."

"Yeah, I think that's it…" More papers were being tossed about before they settled. "You helped him out with a poltergeist?"

"Definitely him," Dean decided with certainty. "Guess he transferred. What did you tell him?"

"I said that we'd leave tomorrow after we finished up our case here," his brother answered.

"Good, I'll call him when we hit the road tomorrow. You coming back now?"

"Yeah," Sam snapped his laptop shut. "I'm heading upstairs now."

"Wait," Scarlett interred and Dean eyed her skeptically. "Leave your laptop at the desk."

There was a moment of hesitation on the younger Winchester's end. "Why?"

"Because Dean got to go to a bar and drink, but you and I went to a bar and all we did was kill some vampires," she stated nonchalantly. "I haven't been in this city for almost seventy years. I want to go to a freaking bar."

She looked over at Dean expectantly. He instantly bobbed his head. "So, uh… Sam, we'll meet you downstairs."

* * *

After meeting Sam in the lobby, the trio walked to the bar on the corner. However, Scarlett went in separately, betting Dean a hundred bucks she could con some bar rat into paying for all three of their drinks.

And like any red-blooded male, Dean took the challenge. After all, he'd either win a hundred bucks or have free drinks for the night.

But an hour later, Sam spotted his increasingly unhappy brother sitting by himself at the corner of the bar and watched as he slammed back a shot glass filled with a violet liquid. Wincing, he approached him slowly. "Uh oh."

Dean shuddered, the mixture of Malibu rum, triple sec, Blue Curacao, and cranberry juice burning his esophagus as it slid down his throat. "What?"

"You don't drink Purple Nurples unless something is severely pissing you off," his younger brother explained as he sat perpendicular to him on a barstool. "So what is it?"

Dean's emerald eyes shot upward and then over at Sam. "Nothing."

But Sam had seen where his brother's eyes had traveled before they landed on him. He let out a slight chuckle and rubbed his jaw. "I get it now."

Dean downed another shot glass of the purple concoction and cringed. "Get what?"

Sam's gaze wandered down the length of the counter and settled on two patrons. One was a man, about six feet tall with peroxide blonde spikes in a black leather jacket and shredded jeans. His only distinguishing feature was a skull and bones tattoo on the side of his neck.

The other was a woman in a pair of slightly feminized combat boots that made her appear to be a few inches taller than her natural five feet, seven inches tall and straight caramel hair that fell just above the small of her back.

He watched with great interest as the young woman flipped her hair, flashing a smile that didn't quite reach her honey-colored eyes.

"You know it's just for the bet, right?"

Dean took a swig of beer from his bottle and then began to slowly pick away at the label. "I have no idea what the hell you're talking about."

His younger brother scoffed, "Yeah… okay, Dean."

Dean twisted his head to the side, still staring at the amber bottle. "Sammy…"

"Wait a second," Sam cut him off, squinting at his brother. "You're not pissed off because she's flirting with someone, Dean. You're pissed because it's not you."

"Now that's just stupid."

"Is it stupid because it's so out there?" Sam asked him, turning away from them. "Or is it stupid because you don't want to admit to yourself that there's a woman that actually gets under your skin?"

The barstool ground against the linoleum floor as he pushed it back and stood, reaching into his pocket. After fishing out enough money to cover the bill, he threw it on the table and walked out the door, not even giving the scene unfolding behind him a second glance.

The blonde who had previously been oblivious to the conversation at the counter suddenly became very interested in Dean's absence. She held up a finger to excuse herself from the man and then glided over to Sam. "He was watching me like he was still angry," she spoke to him, pausing to take a sip of her beer. "Did I do something wrong… _again_?"

Sam shook his head. "No, Scarlett. I think he's just realizing what he hasn't done in his life, what he doesn't have, you know? This whole apocalypse thing has made him…"

"Retrospective?" she offered.

"Something like that. You remind him of what he's never been able to find." After Scarlett shrugged, he further explained, "A woman who knows and understands our lifestyle. One that accepts it."

She nodded and leaned her elbows against the counter.

Sam looked over at her. "You alright?"

"Yeah," Scarlett affirmed, taking a long drink from her bottle. "I just feel bad for him, Sam. I know he'd be pissed at me for even thinking that. But I know where he's coming from."

"I try to tell him that he's better off sometimes…" Sam explained. "Almost lucky, luckier than me, anyway."

The bottle made a loud clinking noise as she placed it down on the table. "How can you say such a thing?"

"Because of our job, Dean's never going to find the love of his life, only to lose her," Sam responded and then sighed heavily. "Even if we can win."

"Jessica?" she asked, which he nodded to confirm. Silently, she sat down beside him and slid her left hand over his, grasping it gently. "Sammy, I'm sorry."

His eyes dropped to the counter as Scarlett studied him carefully. For the first time, she not only saw everything, but felt it too. No matter how tall he grew or how much he looked like a man, deep down, Sam Winchester would always be the child who felt guilty over the death of his mother, the young college student who blamed himself for his girlfriend's demise.

Killing Azazel had satisfied his need for retribution, but not his desire to be made whole again.

"Sam, listen to me," Scarlett whispered to him softly. "Jess is in a better place now… her and your mother both are. I promise," she added and mustered her best smile. "Of all the people who have ever spoken those words to you, you know I'm the only one who knows for sure."

His chocolate brown orbs flickered up at her. No matter how weak it was, Sam could see the smile present in her eyes. And all he could do was sit there in silence.

"Now listen to me," the caramel blonde told him and jerked her head towards the leather-clad guy at the other end of the counter. "Blondie over there must have left the peroxide on too long and it bleached his brain."

The corner of Sam's mouth twitched. "Why do you say that?"

"He thinks he's gonna get some tonight," she laughed.

"Clearly, he has no idea that you'll eat him alive before it ever gets to that point," he snorted.

"Hey!" Scarlett exclaimed in protest, bumping him with her shoulder. "I'm not _that_ bad." Sam shot her a look. "Alright, alright. Maybe I am. BUT… I was good enough that he thinks you're my brother and we're on a road trip together." Pressing her hands against the black wood, she pushed off the counter and stood up. "So he'll pay for whatever you order while I'm gone."

As she began to walk away, Sam grabbed a hold of her slender arm. "Wait, where are you going?"

"To talk to your brother," Scarlett replied and as his grip released, she smoothed out the sleeve.

The taller Winchester sucked in his breath sharply, turning back to the bar. "Good luck with that. Dean's an emotional bear trap."

Scarlett shook her head and pushed through the door. "Believe me, I understand him more than you know."

* * *

Sam was wrong. Scarlett could go off and drink herself into oblivion. Or find the left hand of her Father's right hand or whatever it was for all he cared…

Which Dean Winchester was certain was very little.

Yes, he could admit that they were very similar, but he and the blonde were destined for nothing. He was irrevocably broken, damaged goods. Why would any woman want a relationship with him, especially one with eternity to wait around for her perfect man?

Sure, she was drop-dead gorgeous and interested in the same things he was. In fact, in Dean's eyes, he'd never met a more perfect woman in his life. And maybe, if their situation were different, he wouldn't have minded wasting some of her time.

But with so few days left before their chance at Lucifer passed them by, he couldn't do that to her. Not anymore. Not after everything they'd gone through.

A loud knock sounded on the door of the motel room, causing Dean to instinctively reach for the Colt 911 on his nightstand.

"Dean," a feminine voice followed the hollow sound. "It's me."

He continued to hold his gun as he stuck a hand into his duffel bag in search of salt and after retrieving it, poured a line in front of the doorframe.

Dropping the box onto the floor, he rightened himself and pulled open the door, pointing the firearm at her.

The hazel-eyed hunter stared at him in slight shock for a moment, never faced down by Dean before, and then noticed the salt line at her feet. Scarlett nodded once and held up her hands in plain view before walking right through it and into the room.

Immediately, Dean dropped his gun and shut the door behind her. "What? Done hanging out with your boyfriend already?"

"Dean Winchester, that is _not_ fair," she returned, wounded by his words. "You were the one that agreed to the bet."

Dean rubbed the back of his neck and muttered, sinking down to the bed closest to the door, "Sorry, sorry."

Scarlett chose to gloss over the awkward moment. "Your brother is down at the bar, running up Peroxide Boy's tab. Care to help?"

"Nah." Dean shook her off and placed the 911 on the wooden table between the beds. "I'm done for the night. I'll give you the hundred bucks tomorrow."

Her eyebrow arched instinctively and she whipped out her own handgun. "Who are you and what the hell have you done with Dean?"

"Whoa, whoa!" Dean put his hands up in surrender. "Scarlett, it's me."

"Prove it!" she snapped back, "I've only told you and Sam my prophecy. What is it?"

"Shit," he mumbled. "Do you need the exact wording? Because I don't think I remem-"

"Say it!" she cut him off sharply. "Or so help me, Father, I _will_ shoot you!"

"Okay, okay! Your soulmate is the left hand of the right hand of God," he replied quickly. "Just put the damn gun down."

The blonde lowered her weapon and exhaled a sigh of relief. "Sorry."

"I pulled a gun on you, I guess the least you could do was return the favor."

"Now that we've established we're each ourselves, what is wrong with you?"

"I really don't want to talk about it."

"Dean, you're constantly telling Sam that he can't hide things from you…"

"That was different."

"Really? Why?" she challenged him, hands on her hips. "Because it's me and not your brother?"

"I protect Sam by keeping things to myself, Scarlett, things that no one, not even you, should be burdened with."

She studied him for a moment. "Like what? Memories of your mom, your dad… Hell?"

He looked away from her. "I said I don't want to talk about it."

"I've lived my whole unburdened by others," she told him and sat on the bed opposite him. "It'd make me feel better."

"It'd make _you_ feel better?" He arched an eyebrow at her, his normal demeanor returning slightly. "Are you kidding me?"

She shrugged. "I'd feel more like a normal person. It'd be nice to have someone else's problems to work on."

Dean thought it over for a moment then hesitantly agreed. "But you say a word to…"

"I won't."

"Fine." He sat there for about three minutes in silence. When he finally decided to speak, he couldn't bare to look at her. "I never loved a woman enough to care about losing her. And as hard as this is to believe, it actually _bothers_ me."

Scarlett processed this for a second or two. "Is that why you were moody back at the bar? Me and Bleach Head reminded you of that?" Dean nodded in silence. "What about Cassie?"

"Got her out of my system after the second time around," he explained, pressing his lips together into a thin line to avoid smirking and coming off like a total jerk. "The hard to get routine actually works, you know."

"Hasn't there been anyone else?"

"Aside from her, never…" he trailed off and let his words disappear into the room. "And there's never going to be."

"Hey, hey," Scarlett spoke to him softly and his gaze traveled back to her level. "Don't say that. It's not true."

"Scarlett, look at me." He threw his arms outward. "I'm not relationship material. I go through women like McDonalds goes through oil. And that's never going to change."

Her eyes lightened to a golden tone. "You don't know that…"

"Yes, I do," Dean replied, his gravely voice rising in volume. "I get that you can write, speak, and read every language in existence and that there are things you know about the universe that would have made Einstein's head spin. But, damn it, Scarlett…" He reached up and ran his hands through his hair in frustration, the olive green fabric covering his upper body pulling and rising ever so slightly. "You don't know everything."

But Scarlett Lucas wasn't listening. Something other than Dean Winchester had captured her attention.

Her head tilted to the side in sheer amazement as her eyes were fixated on his skin. "I get it now."

"Have you been listening to a word I was saying?" He growled, rolling his eyes at her.

"No, not that, Dean," Scarlett answered him with bewilderment, slowly rising to her feet.

With the slightest hint of reservation, the lithe blonde took two steps towards him and place a hand on his left bicep, partially hidden by his sleeve.

Dean watched her intently as she gently placed the pads of her fingertips against his skin, pushing the fabric upwards to reveal his scar.

Her warm touch nearly sent chills down the length of his spine, but he managed to hold them off. His emerald eyes were fixated on the contact. "What is it?" he asked in a rough whisper.

She turned her head towards him and looked up at his face with slightly glazed over eyes. "Dean, look…" Scarlett held up her hand and pressed her palm against the marked arm, the outline of the raised skin framing her fingers. Then she removed it to hold in front of his face. "Left hand."

Suddenly everything became perfectly clear to the hunter.

His green eyes passed from her outstretched flesh to lock on her golden-colored gaze.

Time passed.

It could have been seconds, it could have been hours. And neither would have known the difference.

As if of their own accord, Dean's hands reached up and grasped onto her upper arms. He pulled her towards him, their lips crashing together urgently, and the sheer force causing him to fall backwards, taking her with him as they melted into the bed.

* * *

**A/N: So… Merry Christmas… was this not the best present EVER?!?**

**If you recall, in Chapter 13's spoilers, I wrote that Dean's drink of choice never means anything good (ie: his bad mood) and that Scarlett would make a discovery that alters Dean's outlook on life and religion, while completely altering her own existence. Well, this was the major game changer!**

**Also, despite my immense desire to write him as such, Dean has **_**never**_** been shirtless in a single chapter, nor has he been wearing a tank top. The only time he was really ever shirtless was when they were all in Bobby's panic room, BUT he threw off his shirt beyond the door and her view.**

**This was deliberate… all of it was. I'm surprised no one put it together!**

**I'm going to keep this one relatively short because it's 1:30 in the morning and I have to get up early tomorrow to head out on a cruise. I'm heading to Nassau, Bahamas to swim with the dolphins, St. Thomas, Puerto Rico, and Turks and Caicos. Now, I probably won't have internet until sometime after New Year's, most likely the second, so you all have to leave me holiday presents in the form of reviews to come home to!**

**Seriously, if this chapter doesn't get you to leave me reviews, I have no idea WHAT will!**

**And in advanced, Happy New Year!**

**SHOUT OUT TIME!**

**WWESupernatural102292 – **So glad you liked it!

**Jess-Tyson – **Yes, her death would be sad. ESPECIALLY, knowing what you do now! And thanks for the good luck, still waiting to hear back on some of my grades!

**Nehasupnfan – **Oh, I hope that finals went well for you. I posted the last chapter right before I knew mine were about to hit! And hey… writing fanfics brings some semblance of sanity and normalcy to my life too! I'm glad you like Scarlett, she reflects my personality in a lot of ways, especially her use of sarcasm as a coping mechanism. I think this chapter, for sure, marks a major turning point in his view of her.

**Superloudean – **Thanks! I didn't know how the journal would go over, but it seems to be a big hit!

**Mahlia – **Ahh, bitchface Sammy. Such fond memories! I hope you enjoyed this chapter as well, as it kind of marks a new chapter in their relationship. And, well, their sexual tension. Haha.

**Light The Dark – **Oh, well… all good things must come to an end, but I strongly believe the wait was worth it with this one! Your praise just makes me so happy and I'm thrilled you're addicted! Oh and yeah, Ollie is a fave of mine. But I had a Dean dream the other night, so we're all good again.

**TinyCamilli – **I know, I know… I'm evil. But I think this was worth the wait!

**Lemonwedges4 – **Haha, well… these DVDs have been keeping me occupied on vacation at night. Especially considering the fact we drove twenty three hours to Florida. That was not fun. But the looks I got from my parents while laughing hysterically during Supernatural episodes were really funny.

**Midnight LeAnn – **Stupid!Dean should be a new category of Dean itself! Although, there'd be a lot of it!

**JulietaGabbana – **Dean _does_ get himself into some sticky predicaments. I think it was evident that Dean felt ridiculously dumb after reading her will. And it's exactly what you said… it really got the wheels turning in his head and by the end of Chapter 14, it all hit him at once. I will admit, this one was a little more difficult to write than most. I've actually had the bar scene and everything that followed written out since before I even posted the story here. But it was the whole scene preceding it that really proved a challenge. How do you write an apologetic Dean without getting too mushy and away from his character? I didn't want to write Schmoop, but I didn't want to write a heartless Dean going through all the motions, you know? I hope it came across well! As for the episodes, I would suggest watchmissedepisodes(dot)com. That's what got me through before I learned all about a little thing called torrents! And South Africa sounds lovely, I really must visit some time! I'm going to work on the Portuguese when I return from Puerto Rico… right now, I'm in a Spanish kind of mindset! Hope you had a GREAT Christmas!

**Aria DeLoncray – **Thanks! Glad you enjoyed it… welcome!

**Segment time!**

**Cutting Room Floor – **I was going to have Scarlett say some line after realizing that the scar on Dean's arm meant that he was her soulmate like "I've been waiting over two hundred fifty years for you." But that's so Edward Cullen… and _so_ unlike Scarlett Lucas.

**Spoilers – **I'll give you guys three, since it's Christmas and all. First off, in heading to Rutgers, Sam's going to return for an extended period of time to a place in life he hasn't been in over five years, one that Dean hasn't ever experienced. And that includes college parties. Secondly, in addition to integrating themselves into campus life, they're going to have to integrate themselves into the Mason Gross program in a way neither Sam, nor Dean is really prepared for. And Dean's really not going to be happy with which particular celebrities hail from the Garden State. Yet, before they can even get back into the Impala, there's something that all three hunters need to discuss… and it's the little matter of Scarlett and Dean's activities of the previous night and what it means for all of them.

**I'm so excited to start work on the next few chapters, especially the next one! It's going to be juicy as hell!**

**It's really going to be fun for me to write the Winchesters into the Rutgers campuses, as Rutgers is the school I attend. Believe me, I've known that this is where they were going for a while, so I've been making observations and taking notes around the campus. **

**Anyway… Happy New Year to you all! Can't wait for 2010!!!!**

**Lots of love and wishes for a happy and healthy new year!**

**Danielle**


	15. Chapter 15

Scarlett's eyes fluttered open and a bright light immediately overcame her. Her eyes squinted, struggling to adjust to the flood of white. She had no idea how long she had been asleep, but as she glanced around the colorless abyss that she was now standing in, a feeling of familiarity washing over her. And suddenly, the blonde realized this was a place she had visited before, a place she could somewhat call home.

"Princess, is that you?" a voice called to her from somewhere in the infinite space.

As the deep tone of the words danced across her ears, Scarlett felt her knees nearly buckle. "A-Andrew?" She turned around, unsteady on her feet.

Her eyes, beginning to glaze over with tears, fell on a young man dressed in all white around fifty feet away from her and gaining ground rapidly. As the distance closed between them, he spoke again, "It _is _you. You've grown up well."

She blinked, unable to grasp the reality of the moment. "How is this happening?"

Now standing before her, Andrew reached out a hand and cupped her cheek. "You of all people should understand that anything is possible, especially here."

"I know that I've been here before," Scarlett replied, her gave never leaving his face. "I just don't know why I'm here this time."

"Because you have doubts," he answered briskly, the pad of his thumb tracing a line down her cheek as his hand dropped from her face.

She wiped away at an absent tear. "Doubts?"

"Your life is changing and you're struggling to accept it. I'm here to help you… and you're here, well, for the same reason."

Scarlett glanced downwards, trying to process in her head what Andrew meant. "Dean?" She looked back up at him.

"Yes." Andrew nodded. "You're fighting yourself and I'm telling you to stop. Stop fighting your heart, Scarlett. Stop ignoring what every nerve in your body is screaming at you." He studied her for a few moments, her confused face holding his stare. "You can still say what you feel around me. Two hundred sixty years hasn't changed that, you know."

She flinched and looked away from him again, unwilling to look him in the eye as she vocalized the one thought pulsing through every fiber of her being. "I think I'm in love him."

He placed two fingers under her chin and tilted her head toward him. She was surprised to find him smiling at her. "Yes, you are."

"I don't understand…" She shook her head, taking a few steps backwards. "How can I be in love with him if I still love you?"

"Because you know that you're meant to be with him, Scarlett," he informed her softly, sliding his hands into the pockets of his white slacks. "Why do you think you've felt something change inside you from the moment you first saw him in that church? Your soul was recognizing its counterpart… in him."

She snorted in amusement. "I never guessed that part of the solution to my prophecy was in Wedding Crashers."

Andrew let out a laugh, reminding her how much she had missed it over the last two and a half centuries. "If you come up with a thousand ideas, one of them is bound to be right."

"So…" Scarlett tucked her hair behind her ears. "What do I do now?"

"You let yourself be in love with him, Scarlett."

She faltered. "What are you talking about?"

"No matter what you do when you're around Dean, I know you're fighting yourself inside." Andrew stepped towards her once again, placing his hands on her delicate shoulders. "You don't want to let yourself be with him because you feel guilty that you're moving on."

"I don't want to move on," she protested adamantly, grasping onto his strong wrists. "I don't want to let you go."

"You have to. I wasn't meant for you, Scarlett. He _cares _about you. Don't you realize how significant that is?"

It was true that in Dean Winchester's world, there was no one he loved more than his brother. But she was in a position to come in a close second and she was okay with that. After all, there were few people in life that Dean cared for on the same scale as Sam and really, only Bobby remained now that John was gone.

"But…" Her hazel orbs turned a shade of gold, searching his azure ones for answers. "But what about you?"

"I will always love you, Princess, and I know that there's always going to be a part of you that loves me." Andrew's arms lowered to her waist level as he slid his hands around hers, grasping them lightly. "But while neither of us will ever be able to give you as much as of our love as you deserve, he will come closer than I ever could."

"I'm just supposed to forget about you, Andrew?" Her hold on him tightened. "Is that it?"

"I'm not asking you to and I doubt that Dean will either. Learn to cherish every moment together from what we had and what we lost. This is how it was _always_ meant to be… you feel that, _don't you_?"

Scarlett let out a half-hearted chuckle. "I feel like someone has a string tied around my heart and is constantly pulling on it."

The corner of his mouth twitched. "That's not just your guilt."

She understood exactly what he meant, but that didn't mean she wanted to accept it. Her reservations were holding her back, yet her heart was pulling her forward…

_Dean Winchester_ was pulling her forward.

"Okay," she stated softly, glancing down at her fingers. "I'll let you go."

"Good," Andrew replied with a smile and removed one of his hands from hers, brushing it gently over her temple. Lightly, he pressed his lips to her forehead. "I'll watch over you forever."

"Forever," Scarlett repeated in a whisper and suddenly, a blinding light flooded the room once more. She held up a hand to block the beams away from her eyes and closed them.

A familiar voice soon interred her thoughts, "No matter how far I close them, they never seem to keep out all the light. Fuck it, I'm buying a stapler on our way north." The blonde felt the bed shift beneath her weight and groan in protest. Moments later, she heard some rustling noises and he spoke again, "You can open your eyes now."

But contrary to what Dean believed, Scarlett's eyes were more open than they had ever been before.

She rubbed at her eyelids with the palms of her hands before opening them, noticing the vacant spot beside her in bed, as well as the empty bed across the room. "Dean?"

"I'm over here," he replied and she turned to her right to find him leaning against the wall beside the bed, his chiseled body adorned in only a pair of forest green boxers. "Hey."

"Hey," she replied and suddenly self-conscious, attempted to cover her matching black undergarments with the white bed sheet.

"You don't have to do that, you know," Dean noted, his trademark smirk spreading across his face. "I got the full picture last night."

A pink blush crept up her cheeks and she failed to fight the embarrassed smile making her way past her lips. "Yeah."

Dean pushed off the wall and sat down on the edge of the bed, forcing her to shift a couple of inches to the left. "Yeah."

"Do you… um," Scarlett struggled to look at him again as she rose to a sitting position against the headboard. "Do you want to talk about last night? Because I think we probably should…"

"Look," Dean interrupted Scarlett, turning to face her. "I'm going to be up front with you, alright?" He asked, to which she nodded. "I'm not going to tell you last night meant nothing to me because I'd be lying."

She brought her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. "So what are you going to tell me then?"

He shrugged slowly. "I don't know, Scarlett. I'm confused as hell. I mean, I just found out that I have a soulmate. Do you understand how mind blowing that is for me?"

"This isn't exactly easy for me to process either, Dean."

"I know," he answered. "And we have what… twenty days left?" He shook his head. "I should have guessed if it were to happen, it'd happen this way."

"What?" Scarlett tilted her head.

Dean thought it over for a minute, trying to phrase it correctly. "I found a woman that changed all the rules of my game... and we have to play by someone else's."

"So…" Scarlett trailed off, her lips pursed together. "What now?"

He threw his hands up in the air and let them drop back down into his lap. "I don't know. I mean, I haven't really done this before… this whole relationship thing. At least, not in a way that really counted. Not with someone who knew me… the _real _me… and accepted it for what it was." Dean's eyes fell to his fingers. "Honestly, Scarlett, I don't know how to be a boyfriend. I'm not going to buy you flowers on some random day of the week for no reason at all and I'm not going to take you out to dinner on the weekends."

Scarlett's eyebrows furrowed at him. "What are you trying to tell me, Dean?"

"I'm just letting you know what you're getting into if you want to try this," he explained, his emerald orbs now holding her gaze. "I can't promise you I'm going to live up to the images you've had in your mind the last two hundred something years. I don't want to disappoint you… which I know I'm probably going to."

"Let me get this straight." Her eyes darkened as the sheet slipped to reveal the top of her black lace bra. "You have irrefutable evidence that not only is there a woman out there for you, there's one who can deal with your full-time job... and you want to just sweep it under the rug?"

"Wait, no." He held up both of his hands. "I don't want to push this aside. I'm just… I'm not the most reliable person in the world. I let people down, Scarlett. I let them down a lot."

"And in return, you save the world," she added. "Sounds like a fair trade off to me."

Dean shook his head and pushed off the bed. "You say that now and maybe, you'll say that the first few times. But it gets old quick. And pretty soon, we'll go a few days without speaking. Then that'll turn into weeks and who knows how long from there."

She crossed her arms over her chest, the sheet sliding down altogether. "Don't you think that's _my_ decision, Dean? I know what I'm getting into. I didn't wait all this time for you to come along just to bail because the road ahead was rough. I've done rough, Dean. I've done rocky. Hell, I've done self-destructive." She watched as he walked over to the dresser, placing his hands on the surface and staring into the antique mirror. Nevertheless, her eyes remained on the hunter. "But I know that something is different about this. I feel it in my bones. And something tells me that you do too."

Dean looked at her reflection behind him and winced. He knew she was hurting. She felt rejected, alone. And of course, per usual, he was the reason someone in his life suffered. Only this time, it was the person who he never thought existed.

His eyes darted elsewhere and before the words left his mouth, Scarlett knew they'd be a lie. "I don't."

She recoiled as though she'd just been sucker punched. Moments later, when Scarlett exhaled a shaky breath, it dawned on her that she had been holding her air. Silently, the blonde slid out of bed and retrieved her pants off the floor, pulling them over her slender legs. "I can't believe you're going to do this."

"Do what?" he grumbled.

She zippered up her jeans and quickly pulled her black tank on over her head. "Treat me like some common slut you pick up in a bar," Scarlett seethed at him, walking towards the door.

"Whoa…" Dean exclaimed in surprise, taking a few fast steps towards her to cover the ground she'd already put between them. He grabbed onto her arm, pulling the woman back to face him. "I do _not_ think you're a slut and you are _not_ like those other girls."

"Why?" She snapped at him impatiently, wrenching her limb away. "Because I have the balls to call you out on your bullshit?"

"Well, that's part of it, yeah." He rubbed at the stubble on his chin. "Don't you get it, Scarlett? You see right through me. I can't feed you a line or make an excuse and have you believe me. I'm not used to that."

"So, let me get this straight." She squinted at him skeptically. "You refuse to actually have a relationship with me because you can't _con_ _me_?"

"That's not what I mean…"

"I can't believe it," Scarlett snorted, completely unamused. "I'm putting myself completely out there, Dean… heart and soul. And you don't even have the decency to look me in the eye and give me a straight answer."

"You want to know what I'm feeling?" He challenged her bitterly. "Fine… I'm scared, Scarlett. I'm scared to death. And trust me, I've died before. I know what that means. I know what it's like to lose everyone you love. I lost my mother, my father, a brother I barely got the chance to know. I even lost Sam once. At least, I could bring him back, Scarlett. If you go, it's game over. No second chances, no re-roll." Dean suddenly grew quiet as he sunk down onto the bed, his back to her, and it caught the female hunter off-guard. "I can't bring you back, Scarlett. I saw what losing Mom did to Dad, Jessica to Sam, and what Bobby's wife did to him. I don't want to add you and me to that list."

Scarlett's eyes softened and her fury melted away. She was shocked by Dean's revelation and even more surprised that he had opened himself up to her. For a man who once said he didn't believe he had a soulmate, he was certainly doing a hell of a lot to not lose her.

"Dean," she addressed him softly, climbing onto the bed behind him. "Is that what this is about?" When he didn't speak a word, she took his silence for agreement. She pressed her palms to his shoulder blades, sliding them up and over the ridges of his collarbone and wrapping her arms lightly around his chest and neck. "Dean…" Her chin rested on his shoulder. "I don't want to lose you either, but even if we were two normal people with everyday jobs, one of us would be bound to lose the other. It's the natural order of things. It's reality. If anything, we should do everything we can to make the best of what time we have left, if this really _is_ it."

Dean reached up and hooked his hands on her forearms. "You really want to do this?" he sighed.

"Yes," she told him. "More than anything."

"Even more than killing Lucifer?" he asked her, a hint of amusement in his gravelly voice.

"Would you believe me if I said yes?" He shrugged in response and she uncoiled her arms. "Then look at me." Dean hesitated for a moment, then shifted a few inches to his left and looked over his shoulder at her. "When you were in hell, those four months seemed like forty years. Add your age and it's like you've lived for seventy years. Think about it… that's just about one quarter of how long I've been alive." She stopped speaking for a minute, allowing what she had just told him to sink in. Scarlett watched him carefully, studying his every movement. And when he swallowed harshly, signaling that he had finally processed the numbers, she continued, "Four times your existence, Dean. I waited almost two hundred and eighty years for this to happen. I waited so long, I started to believe that someone had gotten it wrong, that you didn't exist. Don't make me spend what may be left of my life without you. I've already waited long enough."

The dark-haired hunter stared at her for what seemed like hours. He wasn't supposed to believe in destiny or fate and he certainly wasn't supposed to believe in soulmates. He was a proponent of plotting your own course, steering your own ship. Dean Winchester was _nobody's_ pawn.

Yet his viridian eyes wouldn't move, no matter how much his brain wished they would. Instead, his orbs were honed in on those belonging to the blonde woman in front of him. He searched them for emotions, for sincerity. And while every synapse in his body was screaming at him to walk out that door, his lips surprised him. "Okay."

"Okay?" Scarlett stared at him in complete shock, barely processing what she had heard as she sat back on her legs. "You mean…"

Internally, he was just as shocked as she was. "Yes, that's what I mean."

But once it sunk in, her lips couldn't contain her grin. "Okay."

"Okay then." Dean nodded, placing his hands on his thighs, and stood up from the bed. "Now that our chick flick moment is officially over. Have you seen my pants?"

The blonde laughed heartily and pointed to the table beside the window. "I think they landed over there."

"Right." He walked over to the small table and found them draped over a chair. "I think your boots are next to the nightstand."

Scarlett peered over the edge of the bed and sure enough, Dean was right. She peeled herself off the bed, just as the hunter on the other side of the room buttoned his jeans. "Where's Sam?"

"Really?" He arched an eyebrow at her. "Ugh, awkward…"

"Dean!" She shot him a look, pulling one black boot onto her foot and zipping it up, followed by the other.

"Alright, alright… Sam texted me about twenty minutes ago. That's why I woke up," he explained to her, yawning in the process. "He is in his own room, five doors down. I, uh… I think he figured us out."

"What makes you say that?"

Dean pulled his cell phone off the table and brought it over to where she was now standing at the edge of the bed. Flipping it open, he pressed a few buttons and then held it out to her.

_Sleep well?_

"Son of a bitch," she marveled with a snort.

"That's my girl," Dean exclaimed proudly then realized the implications of his words, startling himself. "This is going to take a while to get used to."

She pulled the hem of her acid washed jeans over the boots and laughed. "What, monogamy?"

He shuttered. "That too."

Scarlett laughed even harder, pulling her key card off the dresser and shouldering her duffel bag. "Don't worry, I'll make it worth your while." She winked at him and his face lifted slightly. "Dean Winchester, the one-woman man. I think it has a nice ring to it."

She could have sworn his face paled as he sighed. "No more bars."

"I never said that… I like bars! I'd kill myself first," she retorted quickly, putting him at ease. "I'm not going to torture you, Dean."

"Thank God," he exhaled deeply. "Or thank your Father… holy crap." Dean froze. "I'm dating God's daughter. This is so weird."

She rolled her eyes at him and leaned against the door. "You can put on your shirt any time you'd like, you know. I want to get out of here before sunset."

Dean wiggled his eyebrows. "Don't lie. You love it."

"Whatever… let's go."

"Fine. Be that way," he retorted and Scarlett wondered if Dean has been this immature as a child. Finally, he pulled the olive shirt onto his body and headed for the door. "Happy?"

"Very," Scarlett answered immediately, pulling the door open as he lifted his own bad onto his shoulder. Halfway through the doorway, however, she stopped and turned around. "For what it's worth, I'm glad it was you."

Dean smiled at her and the look on his face was one she hadn't seen before. "Oddly enough, I am too."

This time, it was Scarlett who boasted a smirk. "Isn't this the part where you're supposed to kiss me?"

He took a step forward, drawing closer, and Scarlett could make out the faint scent of gun cleaning solvent mixed with leather, emanating off his skin. Dean's head bent lower and she rose to her toes to meet him, their lips mere millimeters apart. His playful green eyes found hers. "I don't care if it isn't."

"Holy shit, I was right." Scarlett and Dean's heads whipped towards the end of the hallway. There, standing in the middle of the corridor, mouth agape, was Sam Winchester.

* * *

"So we're really not going to talk about this?" Sam's voice cut through the Led Zeppelin blaring in the Impala, somewhere between Charlotte and Raleigh.

Dean shrugged, deferring to the woman in the backseat. "What do you want to talk about, Sam?" she asked the taller of the brothers.

"I just want to know what's going on," he informed her, turning around to maintain eye contact. "A few hours before you disappeared, you were at each other's throats. Now, you're…" He cleared his throat in discomfort. "Yeah."

''Dean, show him," Scarlett stated, turning in his direction.

"A please would be nice," he smarted, raising his eyebrows for a moment as he glanced back in the rearview mirror. In return, one of hers arched and he took that as a sign of refusal. "Fine," Dean muttered and slowed to a stop on the side of I-95. He reached his arm across his body, tugging at the buttons of the freshly-changed blue plaid flannel. Once he'd managed to slide it down over his biceps, he twisted so that Sam could see his arm baring Castiel's handprint. "Surprise."

Sam, however, was not amused. "You _do_ know I've seen that before, right?"

"I know, Sam," Scarlett addressed him, "But it means something entirely different now."

The former Stanford student's face wrinkled with confusion. "I'm not following."

Scarlett chewed on her lip, contemplating the easiest way to explain it to him. "Okay," she decided on a plan. "Whose handprint is that, Sam?"

"Castiel's…"

"Right," Scarlett affirmed with a dip of her head. "And who does he work for?"

"Your Father," Sam responded immediately and Scarlett wound her hand in a circle a few times, pressing him to continue. "Who is God…"

"Exactly," she stated. "Now, is that a left hand or a right hand?"

His eyes flickered to Dean, who had already slipped his arm back into the shirt. His older brother rolled his eyes. "I'll give you a hint, it's a left one."

They watched as Sam digested the information, like parents expectantly waiting for their child to put some mysterious family secret together with clues he now possessed. And when the twenty six-year old's jaw clenched tightly, they figured he now understood. "So he's…" His green eyes traveled to the woman and she nodded. Then he turned back to his brother. "And she's…" Dean also nodded and Sam leaned back in his seat, blowing out a deep breath.

"Tell me about it," Dean mumbled, shifting back into drive and pulling onto the highway.

Sam's head was struggling to process everything. On one hand, he was happy for his brother. He'd spent his entire life as a womanizer, never once desiring more than a one-night stand. But he knew Dean better than that, knew he wanted something more, even if he didn't admit it. While that part of his life was probably buried somewhere deep within his mind, the older Winchester would never have admitted it before. And probably wouldn't, unless Scarlett forced it out of him, which she was coming dangerously close to doing.

Scarlett…

His thought process shifted to her. He'd only known her for eleven days and he could already tell her things Dean would probably give him hell for saying out loud. She'd never ridicule him or once call him a girl for having a thoughtful conversation with her. If anything, the woman was happy to be able to help a friend out and share her extensive experience, which really was _quite_ extensive. After all that Scarlett Lucas had gone through, Sam was glad she'd found what she'd spent almost three centuries looking for, especially when it meant she'd be a permanent part of his life.

Suddenly, Sam felt his stomach bottom out. With nineteen days before their return to Maryland, nothing was permanent anymore.

Images flooded his head of his mother burning on the ceiling, his father lying unconscious on the floor, doctors trying in vain to save him, only to declare John Winchester dead, the funeral pyre he and Dean erected in a random forest nearby where they watched as fire burnt him to ashes, Jessica's blood dripping from her prone body before she was consumed by flames, Dean's entire body ripped to shreds by the hellhounds as they dragged his soul away, and Adam's face anything but peaceful, his intestines bursting from the open hole in his abdomen, as he too burned to nothing, just as his father had done. Yet it was followed by one more he could not distinguish. The scenes overwhelmed him and his stomach churned unmercifully.

Everyone he loved died, pulled into the fire in one way or another. He couldn't love without losing and as the sickening feeling in his gut persisted, he realized Scarlett fell into that category. While the love he felt for her was not a romantic one, it was a type reserved for members of his family. Scarlett was a part of his family now, not just because of her connection to his brother, but because of her unrelenting connection to himself.

The last, previously indecipherable image broke through his thoughts once more and Sam froze, paling in horror.

Scarlett's voice cut into his head. "Sam, you okay?"

But as he managed to divert his gaze into the mirror, all Sam saw was her face peeking out from a sea of flames. His stomach back-flipped again. "Dean, pull over."

"What?" His brother furrowed his brow at him. "Why?"

Sam's arm wrapped around his abdomen tightly. "Just pull over!"

Dean finally obeyed and the Impala swerved to the right, stopping just before a small clump of a forest on the highway. Sam managed to find the handle and pushed open the door, taking a few loping strides before emptying the contents of his stomach onto the side of the road.

"Well…" Dean's head cocked to the side and he winced. "This is gonna be _awesome_."

* * *

**A/N: Sorry for the wait. I actually wrote this on my cruise, but wasn't really sure if I liked it or not. So after a week's worth of editing, this is the final product. I didn't want to make it to schmoopy and sappy because that's not Dean **_**or**_** Scarlett, but I didn't want them to spend the next five chapters fighting with each other either. I also couldn't leave Sam out of the equation. It would have been too simple just to let him be okay with it. This is a little bit of a game changer for him also. Please let me know if you think I did the characters justice.**

**Good news is that we're more than halfway through Hellatus. And God knows we need the Winchesters back!**

**And by the way, I'm pretty much convinced that St. Thomas is heaven. I was so sorry that we only had a day there before Puerto Rico and Turks and Caicos. Now, I couldn't live there for the rest of my life (no sports)… BUT I could definitely see being there for a week each month.**

**Shout-outs:**

**Nehasupnfan – **Thank you, glad you liked it! I told you this one would blow everyone's minds. Happy New Year to you too! I'm hard at work on the chapter again!

**Glissa – **Welcome to the review club… so happy to hear you enjoyed it! Hope your New Year was great!

**Jess-Tyson – **Haha, it seems liked everyone was waiting for it! I hope it was worth the wait. Thank you for affirming my thoughts about the overly-sappiness. I just don't think it would have worked. And you're right, it is quite tragic that she'll get a brief time with him and then have to live forever without him. Unfortunately, there's also a chance one of them won't survive past the next twenty days.

**Klandgraf2007 – **It's no problem at all! Hope this one was good too!

**Midnight LeAnn – **I'm impressed that you got it… not many did. And a lot of stories put the OC with Dean or Sam right away… not enough build up and tension. I wanted to wait as long as I could… hope it added to the story!

**Rayne Nara – **So glad you like it! A soulmate for Sam _would_be great. Unfortunately, he's convinced that his soulmate was Jessica. Who knows… that could change. **Cough**.But not for a while.

**Light the Dark – **So happy you liked it! It's weird, I swear… it's like Dean is constantly running around in my head and I can _hear_ him saying the lines. If it sounds ridiculous in Jensen's voice, I know it's not something he'd say. Strange, I know. But I think it works. Please, I _wish_ I had him locked up in my room for observation. No one would ever see him again. Well, except Sam. He could have visitation rights.

**Haley – **I love the Beatles! Anyhoo, thanks so much for the praise. It really makes my day… you have no idea! Believe me, I know all about late nights!

**Mahlia – **I tried to be subtle about the oncoming twist in their relationship, as I really wanted to make it a surprise. I think that Scarlett and Dean just mesh together really well on a different level than she and Sam do. I believe that Sam really likes the idea of having a pseudo-sister in Scarlett, who he looks up to in a way that's different to Dean, but at the same time, fears for her safety because of what happens to everyone they're close to. And the Purple Nurples were indeed a warning sign! As for Scarlett's will, up until this point, I think that her main goal was to help Dean stop the apocalypse and Lucifer, no matter what the cost because she didn't have much to live for, meaning that if she died, so be it. But now, she has a lot more at stake, including the love of her life and a best friend. So really, it could go either way. Although, _I_ know how it will go.

**Crystal – **Glad I surprised you! Hope you liked this one!

**JulietaGabbana – **Thank you and Happy New Year to you too! Or rather… Feliz Ano Novo! I told you I'd get some Portuguese in there! You should know that I rarely have oversights… trust me, the work that goes into this story would blow your mind! In my other specialty genre, which is wrestling, I seamlessly wrote an OFC into over twenty three years of real male character's life, complete with family history and _everything_. I take writing and consistency very seriously… I'm glad though that you have a good eye! I _hope_ this chapter was juicy as hell and the next one, I hope, is funny as hell. It's going to be interesting! Rutgers is great and I love it, so you're going to get a student's view of both the campus life and the academia of the place. Believe me, South Africa is on my list of places to go!

**Segments ahoy!**

**Cutting Room Floor – **Scarlett pays the hotel bill and makes a quick stop into the hotel bar, only to have a heart to heart with Castiel. It was too sappy… and too out of canon.

**Spoilers – **Deciding to go undercover as students in the Mason Gross program, and without any instrumental or dancing talents, Sam and Dean are forced to join Scarlett in the vocal program, also known as the Rutgers Glee Club. Yet when the club director decides that their "Tribute to Jersey" performance at the first game of the season will feature one native artist in particular, Dean wishes George Stauffer was still employed Hunter College instead.

**I warn you, for the next chapter… get tissues. You're going to laugh so hard, you'll cry.**

**Hope you all had a great New Year!**

**Peace, love, and the Metallicar,**

**Danielle**


	16. Chapter 16

Sitting in the reception area of Dean Stauffer's office, Scarlett had noticed that Sam was absurdly quiet, beyond the usual level of silence she'd grown accustomed to. In fact, after the incident outside of Raleigh, Sam had barely said a word to her or his brother, a notion that wasn't lost on Dean, who was eyeing him from his left.

"_What_?" Sam snapped at him, finally growing tired of his inquisitive glances.

Dean snorted sarcastically. "What's eating you?"

"Nothing," he replied with a glare fit to ignite fire. "I'm just thinking."

"That's dangerous." Dean made a point of rolling his eyes.

Sam mumbled something inaudible, followed by, "Jerk."

"Bitch."

"Boys!" Scarlett hissed at them. "We're in a university… and on a hired job. You know, one we get _paid _for. Act professional."

Dean pointed a finger Sam's way. "He started it."

Scarlett sighed quietly and her fingers reached for her temples, lightly rubbing in circles. "That's really not what I had in mind."

The door before them opened with a loud creak, catching the trio's attention instantly. Standing in its place was a man of about fifty years with black hair and graying temples. Dean noted that the last time he'd seen the man, the only thing that had been gray was his suit. Apparently, seven years did that to a person.

"Dean Winchester," the man marveled, approaching him. "It's been what, six… seven years?"

Dean rose to his feet to meet him, Sam and Scarlett following suit, and shook his outstretched hand. "Something like that."

"I'm sorry to hear about your dad," George lamented, the crinkles stemming from the corners of his eyes softening. "He was a good man… you look just like him." Scarlett fought off a smile at the pride Dean was trying to hold back. "And you…" He turned to the taller Winchester. "You must be the youngest, Sam. I believe we spoke on the phone."

"Yes, sir," Sam answered him shaking his hand.

A half-smile formed on the older man's face. "Yeah, you're John's son alright." George's head wheeled to the lone woman in the room. "And you are?"

"Scarlett Lucas." Scarlett smiled at him politely in response, extending her hand, which he shook. It then dawned on her that he expected some sort of further explanation of who she was. After all, her last name wasn't Winchester. "I'm…"

As Scarlett was busy panicking internally, Dean smoothly interceded on her behalf. "She's my girlfriend."

Her head whipped to her right instinctively, hearing the word leave Dean's lips for the first time. Luckily, George hadn't seen. "Well, that certainly is a change. I suppose I won't have to put the sororities on alert then this time." Dean cleared his throat uncomfortably and the professor quickly changed subjects. "Right, well… please, come into my office. I'd like to keep this matter as private as possible."

Sam went first, followed by the older hunters. Scarlett's head dipped low, her voice a whisper. "I'm not even going to ask… and I certainly don't want to know."

"Look, it was seven years ago and it was snowing out. There wasn't much else to…"

She held up a hand to silence him. "I _said_ I didn't want to know. You've got a free pass on this one. Don't push your luck, Dean." Plastering a smile on her face again, Scarlett entered his office.

"Okay then." He exhaled and walked inside, sitting in the chair to the left of Scarlett's middle seat. He waited for George to shut the door behind them. "So what are we dealing with here?"

"I don't know," Stauffer admitted honestly. "It's not the same as the last time, that's for sure. Whatever this thing is, it's here for a reason. And it wants revenge."

"That sounds like a textbook vengeful spirit to me," Scarlett stated matter-of-factly. "It shouldn't be too hard. We just have to figure out who she is."

Sam nodded in agreement and looked from her to the dean. "Professor, do you know of any recent deaths at the university? Has there been any significant change to the building or the staff?"

"Deaths?" George shook his head. "Definitely not. The staff for Mason Gross is pretty much the same and the few changes were in the offices, not in any of the teaching staff. The only construction that has been done in the last few years was the refacing of the bricks over at Hickman Hall. Otherwise, nothing has changed."

"Well, that's helpful," Dean muttered to no one in particular.

"I'm sorry that I don't know more…"

"It's alright, Professor," Sam assured him, shooting Dean an agitated glare in the process. "Unfortunately, however, this means we're going to have to stick around for a while and investigate."

The dean of the school nodded. "I anticipated that you would, so I went ahead and established a cover for you here…" he trailed off and began sorting through the papers on his desk. "May I ask you a question, Miss Lucas?"

"Please, Scarlett," she answered with a bob of her head.

"How is your singing voice?"

Scarlett squinted for a moment. "I can carry a tune, I suppose. My mother and I used to sing all the time when I was younger."

"Excellent!" he exclaimed brightly and turned to his computer, typing in a few words. Suddenly, the printer sprung to life and spewed out a few sheets of paper, which George handed to her over his desk. "This is your schedule and your housing assignment. You'll be in an apartment not too far from here, Newell number nineteen. I figure it would be best if I placed you in the apartment Ms. Roarke, the recently deceased, and Ms. Granger lived in. That will leave you with their roommate, Ms. Walters."

"What about us?" Dean interrupted and George began to mess up his working surface once more.

"Ah yes, Sam and Dean…" He pulled two packets off the top of the pile and handed them to the respective brothers. "Here are your schedules. You may change them if you like, but I tried to keep your classes right up your alley, so to speak."

"Mythology 204 – Mysticism and Magic in the Americas?" Dean quirked an eyebrow. "Sounds just like me." He scanned the table once more and pointed to a one particular row. "What's that?"

The dean of Mason Gross stood, leaning over his desk to eye the class in question. "Oh, that! That's…"

Dean slung his duffel bag over his shoulder and shut the door to the Impala. "Glee Club? Why the fuck did Stauffer shove me in _Glee Club_?"

Sam could barely stifle his laughter. "Because you never learned to play an instrument, Dean."

"Oh, I'm sorry I didn't learn how to play the freaking oboe instead of learning how to shoot guns so that I could _save_ lives," he snapped back. "My bad."

"Scar," Sam addressed the woman, ducking his head down over her shoulder. "You might want to invest in a pair of earplugs for the first rehearsal. Your ears bleeding and then healing might blow our cover."

She immediately began to chuckle and Dean shot her an unamused frown. "You're supposed to be on my side, here."

"You know what the best part of pulling rank on you hunters is?" Scarlett asked rhetorically, beginning to backpedal with her garment back draped over one shoulder, her duffel hanging off the other. "I get to choose whatever side I want… and be right."

"Wait!" Dean called out to her. "Where are you going?"

"To my apartment," she yelled back, walking in the direction of her quad. "Catch you later, boys."

"Come on!" Dean protested loudly in the nearly-full lot. "Don't leave me with Gigantor!"

Sam blanched as she waved once, not even turning around, "Nice, Dean. Really nice."

* * *

The sound of the doorknob against the concrete echoed though the apartment as Scarlett dropped her bag next to the door. By college standards, the place was pretty spacious, especially considering the janitor closets most universities called a double occupancy dorm room. By comparison, this was Trump Towers.

After kicking the door shut, she began to explore. Ahead of her was a coat closet, covered by a shoddily hung shower curtain decorated with watercolor butterflies. The theme continued into the sitting room on her left that contained a two-seater couch, two cushioned chairs, and a wooden table, as well as various posters of flowers and butterflies on the walls. The most interesting part of the room was the fact that it bled into a kitchen, which rivaled most of the motel kitchens they'd stayed in thus far and contained a table with four chairs.

Busy taking in the kitchen, a voice behind her made her jump. "You must be the new girl."

Instantly, Scarlett was thankful she wasn't armed or she'd be explaining to the scared redhead before her why there was a knife against her throat, or worse, a gun pointed directly between her eyes. She placed her garment bag down on the table. "Oh, yeah. I'm Scarlett... Scarlett Lucas. I just transferred here from UCLA."

"Sophie," the student replied nonchalantly. "Been here the last three years. Same crap each year. What brings you to the East Coast?"

"Change of scenery, I guess," Scarlett responded with a shrug. "I just needed to get away from California for a while. There were a lot of things I wanted to leave behind. Once upon a time, I had family around here, so I figured this was as good a place as any."

Sophie was clearly still full of questions. "Still have any family out here?"

The blonde shook her head. "Not anymore. The few that stayed are long gone."

"Oh." Sophie's face fell and she looked like she was ready to smack herself in the head at any moment. "I shouldn't have butted in. I'm sorry you're alone out here. Can't be easy."

Her slender shoulders bounced again. "It's not too bad. I came out here with my boyfriend and his brother. I think they needed to get away just as much as I did."

"Well, I hope I get to meet them soon." She smiled at her reassuringly. "Here, let me show you around. The grand tour will take all of five minutes." When Scarlett laughed, she took off towards the front door and the older student trailed behind her. "You saw our closet. There's another one over here… I call it our junk closet. My luggage and some random boxes are in there. Throw whatever you can't fit in there. And right ahead of us is my room…" Sophie's words hung in the air and she abruptly turned around. "Look, I'm sure you know the strange things that are happening around the campus. Rebecca lived in the other room by herself since we never filled up the last spot and Heather stayed with me. After Becca died, Heather was attacked and dropped out, so it's been me for the last two weeks. I'm sure you probably would prefer having your own room, but being alone here is making me paranoid and it would be really nice if I could look across the room and see something other than the white walls on the other side." Her breath coming out in one big rush, Sophie shook her head. "I probably sound like a lunatic…"

"You don't," Scarlett assured her. "And it would be nice to share a space with another girl for a change. I'm an only child and have lived with Sam and Dean for way too long."

"Great!" Sophie exhaled a sigh of relief and pushed open the door, walking into the room. "So, Sam and Dean are their names?"

"Yeah." The blonde nodded, taking note of the various Broadway posters on her side of the room. "Sam's the brother, Dean's the boyfriend."

"Dean," she repeated, mentally digesting the name. "I like it… like James Dean, the actor. 'Rebel Without a Cause.'"

Scarlett let out a laugh. "It's more fitting than you realize. He'll be over here soon enough."

"Separation anxiety?" Sophie offered.

She snorted. "More like… desire to suffocate Sam in his sleep. I was their buffer."

"Ah… I'm one of five, I know how that goes." She sunk down onto her bed, watching as her new roommate began to unpack her clothes. "Listen, I just want to warn you that a lot of nights, I don't get home until pretty late. I may be a good singer, but I suck at everything else besides music and English. Rather unfortunately, we need calculus, a language, and three history classes to graduate. I have managed to put them off until my senior year."

Scarlett winced. "Well, if you need help, I'm pretty good at those three. What's your language?"

"Latin."

A smile spread across her lips. "No problem."

* * *

"Dude, this is like Buckingham Palace compared to the places we've stayed in," Dean remarked to Sam, surveying the apartment they would call home for the duration of the job. Dimensionally, it was identical to Scarlett's. However, the walls were as bare as bones in the desert.

"This is pretty nice compared to the dorm I stayed in my freshman year," Sam added, glancing around the room as he walked into the kitchen.

Dean turned to his brother, recognizing this moment as the first time he'd spoken of anything relating to the first few years at Stanford. "Really?"

A chuckled escaped his lips in amusement. "Two twin beds and a pair of dressers, one set for me and one for my roommate. The room was fifteen by fifteen. Although, at least _his _legs didn't hang off the end of the beds."

Dean snorted, checking out the capacity of the refrigerator against the wall as Sam moved onto the bedrooms. "Sasquatch."

The taller brother ducked into the first room. "This looks about the same… but… oh, thank God."

"What about Scarlett's dad?" Dean called to him from the other room.

"These are extra-long beds!" Sam exclaimed happily, laying down on one of the beds, his heels landing two inches from the edge. "If this doesn't make you believe in God…"

Dean rolled his eyes as he walked into the room and spotted his brother. "My half-human, telekinetic girlfriend will," he finished for him. Immediately after his sentence ceased, he noticed a white card neatly placed on his pillowcase. Or, well, the pillowcase on the bed his brother hadn't claimed. "Sam, check this out…" Dean snatched it off the pillow and began to read it aloud. "Sam and Dean, I've taken the liberty of having your apartment prepared for you with all you could possibly need. You will find in your desk drawer a student ID for each of you. The card contains a one hundred meal plan, which should more than suffice for your stay. There is also a store in the Douglass Campus Center in which you can purchase any groceries you need. Hand the cashier your ID card and it will be swiped without issue, meaning Rutgers will gladly take care of it. If you have any other questions, you have my cell number. Please let me know if you need anything… George." The card dropped to the floor almost instantly and Dean was practically out the door.

"Dean!" Sam shot up as his brother bolted. "Where are you _going_?"

"Uh, duh, Sam…" He sent him a look that was easily interpreted as '_what are you, stupid?_' "It's called free food."

* * *

Scarlett and her new roommate were in the middle discussing the Rutgers Glee Club and everyone in it when a buzzing sound cut through the apartment.

"What was that?" the blonde glanced around warily and her roommate giggled at her response. Scarlett sighed and closed her eyes as the sound returned again. "That was the doorbell, wasn't it?" When Sophie sighed, she shook her head and stood. "I'll get it."

"Just don't shut the front door behind you or it'll lock," Sophie warned her, turning her attention to the laptop on her desk.

Following her new roommate's instructions, Scarlett walked the few feet from the door of her apartment to the door to the quad and noticed Dean through the narrow rectangular window. She turned the handle and pushed it open to let him in, only to have him barrel past her. "Um… hello to you too, Winchester." He mumbled something that vaguely sounded like a 'hi' and she looked over at Sam, who was first making his way into the building. "Sam, why is my boyfriend behaving like he's The Flash?"

"Free food," he replied nonchalantly, following Scarlett into her apartment.

"Ahh…" She closed the door behind him and found Dean in the unoccupied room, searching through the desk drawers. "Wrong room, wrong drawers." He nodded and gave up his quest, ready to head over to her room. Instead, she blocked the doorway and placed a hand on his chest, hitting the cream-colored fabric of his thermal shirt. "You're not going _anywhere_ near my room until you tell me what you're looking for."

"Stauffer said that whatever food we need, Rutgers will pick up the tab," Dean responded in a quiet voice, which she found mildly funny, considering his propensity for yelling. "All we have to do is go to the campus center and swipe our student ID's… they have a grocery store!" he added, this time at a decibel level she was much more acquainted with.

"That reminds me!" a voice piped up from the other room and the blonde backed up a few feet to eye Sophie. "Housing dropped your I.D. off right before you got here. They asked me to give it to you when you were settled." Her chair swiveled toward the open door and she fished out the small card from one of her desk organizers. "Guess I dropped the ball on that one."

Scarlett smiled at her graciously and walked a few steps to take the I.D. from her. "It's no problem, not like I was planning on using it today."

"That reminds me…" Sophie straightened up at once as though lightning had hit her. "How did you get into the quad? Normally, you have to swipe your card to get in."

Sam fought back an amused grin as Scarlett went rigid. "A guy… I think he lives upstairs? He was leaving as I was about to ring the doorbell. Guess I got lucky." She shrugged for effect.

Assuaged by her answer, Sophie's eyes roamed to the two good-looking men standing in her doorway. "I'll say."

The blonde couldn't help but smirk at her action and wave them into the room. "This is Sam…" she told the redhead, gesturing to the taller man.

Sam flashed her a polite smile. "Hi."

"Hey…" she breathed, completely taken with her new roommate's friend.

Scarlett reached for the other brother, latching onto his leather-covered arm and pulling him towards her. "And this is Dean, my boyfriend." She allowed herself to momentarily look up at him and smile before returning her eyes to her roommate.

"Hi, Dean," Sophie managed to squeak out, still completely flustered by the handsomeness of his brother.

Scarlett was doing all she could not to fall over with laughter. "Dean, _Sam_," she emphasized his name, causing him to blush. "This is my roommate, Sophie."

"Hey, Sophie," Dean returned hastily. "Hope you don't mind if I steal my girl from you for a little while, the convenience store in the campus center is calling my name…"

The senior shook her head vehemently, attempting to shake the stun Sam's appearance had placed over her. "No problem, I have to work on my Latin homework anyway. I'll catch up with you later tonight at rehearsal."

Scarlett's eyebrow quickly quirked. "_Rehearsal?"_

"Uh… yeah!" Sophie retorted as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "We have Glee Club rehearsal at eight. Make sure you get there on time, Dr. Wilson flips a shit if you walk in a second late. He made this freshman cry last year for walking in at five seconds past and she was so upset, she switched schools."

"Let me get this straight… she _switched _schools?" Dean snorted. "Over _Glee Club_?"

"Alright, Dean," his girlfriend interred, pushing him out the door. "Time to go. Come on, Sammy. See you at practice tonight, Soph!"

"Nice meeting you!" she called after the brothers, but secretly directed her words at Sam. "Remember, we're in the Nicholas Music Center!"

* * *

Skipping the food fest about to take place, Sam had decided to snoop around in the campus library, one of four at Rutgers, to see if he could dig up anything on the vengeful spirit wreaking havoc on the Mason Gross students.

However, after an hour at the library, he managed to bump into one of the four other people he knew on campus: Sophie Walters.

Despite being four years his junior, Sophie was an attractive girl with deep crimson hair that vaguely reminded him of Anna's. Whether it was natural or not didn't really concern him. But clearly, as Dean had been quick to remind him repeatedly, she'd taken an immediate liking to Sam.

Instead of rushing over like he had expected her to do, Sophie flashed him a sweet smile and waved before returning to her books.

"Hmm." Sam rubbed his hand against his jaw as he turned his search back to the reference bookshelf before him, chalking her behavior up to misjudgment on his part. Finding the information he needed was taking longer than he thought and there wasn't much time before practice. With a sigh, he turned away from the books.

He hated to do this, to act like his brother. But sometimes, when it was a matter of life or death, a person had to do things that were out of character. And this was certainly that kind of situation.

"Hey, Sophie," Sam greeted her, placing his hand on her chair.

The red-head turned around and returned his smile. "Hey, Sam. Already hitting the books? I'm impressed."

"I'm doing some research for a course I'm taking on investigative journalism. I decided to write a paper on the darker history of Rutgers," he explained to her and when she fully swiveled in her chair, Sam knew he'd reeled her in. "But I'm not really sure where to start. I know you've been here for a while, so…" He trailed off, beginning to make use of his notorious puppy dog eyes. "I was hoping you could help me."

Sophie snapped her book shut and stood up, pushing her backpack aside in the process. "Lucky for you, Sam, I'm a legacy student. My parents went to this school… met here actually. I know a lot more about the university than the average student. But I hate to break it to you, buddy… you're looking in the wrong place."

* * *

"What time is it?"

Scarlett retrieved her cell phone from her pocket as she and her boyfriend dashed like a bat out of hell down the hallway. "Two minutes passed screwed."

"Shit," Dean mumbled as the arrived at the auditorium door, slowing to a stop as he pushed the door open. "Alright, just act cool. We're new. He can't get too pissed off…"

"Well, well, well," a voice boomed from the front of the auditorium. "Figured being on-time wasn't mandatory, did we?"

Knowing Dean was going to bury them further, Scarlett quickly interceded. "I apologize, sir, but I thought practice didn't start until 8pm."

"Last time I checked, young lady…" the man in black sweater shot back harshly, his gaze sweeping towards the clock on the wall, where his words fell inaudible. The clock read 7:55. "Ah… well, my apologies. It appears my watch is a bit fast. Join us on the risers, please."

As he returned to his position before the group, Scarlett breathed a heavy sigh of relief and heard Dean exhale beside her. "Did you?"

"Yep." She nodded and began to walk down the aisle, Dean in step beside her. "Look, there's Sam." Dean followed her extended finger and noticed Sam lifting his head. "He's got two spots for us."

The two hunters settled into the group beside Sam at the foot of the risers. "Smooth move, Scarlett."

"I try," she whispered back as the conductor stepped in front of his music stand.

"Good evening." Scarlett winced. His voice was just as loud at this distance as it had been five minutes prior. "For those of you who are new to Mason Gross, I am Philippe Quint, your chorale director. Just to give you a bit of background on myself, I was born in St. Petersburg, but raised in the United States. For my vocal work, as well as my instrumental compositions, I've been nominated for two Grammy awards, one of which is for the current award season, and have received top prizes at competitions at Julliard, Carnegie Hall, and the Orpheus Chamber Orchestra, as well as receiving an invitation to perform for Queen Elizabeth. " He paused for a moment, surveying the club. "I see new faces here. Will all of you please stand?" Scarlett, Sam, and Dean eyed each other momentarily and stood up, along with six other students. "I presume you all know your place amongst the group. At least two of you will drop out of this program. That is the way life goes… we will move on without you. I want you to fully understand that you are now committed to this group of people around you. You depend on each other and I depend on you. Do _not_ let me down." Philippe's eyes, a dark chocolate color, bore into their faces. "You may take a seat."

"Now, I'd like to take this time to address a situation that has come to light in the past two weeks. The death of Ms. Roarke and subsequent injury of Ms. Granger was a very unfortunate occurrence and both girls will be greatly missed in this program," Quint continued, a hint of uncharacteristic remorse in his voice. "However, the show must go on and I know that they would be immensely excited by the tribute performance we're undertaking this year. As you all know, the first performance of the semester takes place at the first football game next week and every year, there is a theme to all of the performances during halftime. This year, the theme is a Salute to New Jersey, meaning that each performance will feature the music of a New Jersey legend." The director retrieved a large stack of packets from his messenger bag and, dividing it in two, handed them to the two girls in the front row. "The marching band will be performing the music of Bruce Springsteen, the University Danceworks will be dancing to the music of Frank Sinatra, and we… ladies and gentlemen…" He trailed off for dramatic effect as the girls each took an end of the risers, waiting his signal to pass out the sheet music. "Will be singing a medley in tribute to one of New Jersey's greatest rock n roll acts… Bon Jovi!"

"Son of a bitch."

* * *

**A/N: Hey, guys. I'm so sorry this one took so damn long. I think I really needed to get back on campus to get inspiration, since Rutgers is my actual school, and I just returned to school this week. Granted, I'm making up some of the classes and names, but for the most part, everything you're reading about Rutgers is real… buildings, staff members, and residence halls.**

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter, it was a little bit of filler, but it is setting the groundwork that needs to be put into place. Things will pick up next chapter, I promise.**

**As for the season premiere, I thought it was good. I wasn't really blown away by it, as it seemed to be a rehash of "Folsom Prison Blues," just as in a mental institution. I just wish that they would have explored what happened in Albuquerque a little bit, but it was a solid episode. There was definitely a good blend of humor, angst, and deep thought. It just wasn't my favorite episode. Still, I was happy to have the boys back in my life.**

**I just wanted to let you all know that in addition to being on twitter now, I'm also answering any and all questions you have for me via formspring(dot)me/jewelgirl04. That includes IODH, however, you can ask me anything in general!**

**Onto your fave part...  
**

**Shout-outs:**

**Jess-Tyson – **We shall see what happens! Don't get the tissues out just yet, though. There's still plenty of Deanlett moments to be had!

**Midnight LeAnn – **I like to think they're sort of easing into their relationship a bit. I know I could have written them as being incredibly awkward around each other, unable to define what they are, but that seemed kind of improbable. Are there going to be situations they don't know how to tackle in their relationship? Yeah. But it's not going to be every little thing.

**Lois87 – **Oh, thank you! Sorry to keep you waiting… been getting back into the swing of things.

**TinyCamilli – **Thank you!

**Haley – **That's a great tattoo! I like to just draw random tattoos on myself with markers or paint. The protective tattoo Sam and Dean have is definitely a recurring one. Glad you liked the chapter!

**Tonialeigh – **Oh, welcome! Thanks for reviewing and for your reassurance on Scarlett! So happy you're on board!

**JulietaGabbana – **I'm happy my Portuguese is up to par! It's nice to know that all the work that goes into these chapters never goes unnoticed. The next chapter is going to be much funnier in certain parts. Believe me, the first scene alone is going to make you laugh! I'm sorry to make you worry… but no matter what happens, if anything happens to any of the three, you have to know that they cared about each other very much. Scarlett and Dean's relationship, despite being very new, is very real and means a lot. And both Sam and Scarlett will have left a lasting impact on each other's lives, no matter what happens. And I'm not saying whether anything will or won't. It's just a matter of reassurance. But they definitely have excellent chemistry together that's undeniable. I'm glad you think I write everything like the show! It makes me so happy! Até na próxima vez!

**Klandgraf2007 – **Enjoy this one!

**Light the Dark – **I LOVE being called awesome. You made my day! It honestly takes a LOT of re-watching episodes and constantly re-reading what I write. I'm perpetually analyzing what I write, trying to see if their behaviors and words are believable. Plus, it doesn't help that in every day situations, there are often times I think about how Sam and Dean would react. It's kind of funny, actually. It's like they're always on my mind. It's also a little weird, but what can I do? As for Sam, I really think that a woman who would be in Dean's life has to be of relevance in his life, as well. The bond between them is so strong, I can't imagine it being any other way. In addition, I firmly believe that Sam needs a positive female influence in his life and if Scarlett can provide that, all the better.

**Mahlia – **I had to pause multiple times when thinking about Dean in his boxers. It's a very hard image to get past, I know. I strongly felt that Andrew was constantly on her mind when it came to potentially forming any kind of relationship in the two hundred and sixty years after him, even if a guy was mortal. But there's something more to why he visited her than what meets the eye. Andrew didn't know it, but his meeting with her was not arbitrary; it was purposefully orchestrated. By whom… well, you'll find out soon enough. I never really thought about the image in the mirror being a vision. I can tell you it's not a vision, but his mind just playing tricks on him. Every important woman in his life has ended up virtually the same way. He just fears she's going to suffer the same fate.

**Okay, onto the segments. They're going to rock your world!**

**Cutting Room Floor – **I was going to include the frat party in this chapter, but decided not to. That'll start of the next chapter, Chapter 17, instead. There is also an interesting piece of information concerning Sophie that was going to be put into this chapter, but I decided to save it. For a while, anyway.

**Spoilers – **Aside from that tidbit about Sophie, I do have TWO spoilers for you since I haven't updated in so long. First off, Scarlett's plan to fly under the radar is shot to hell at Dean's first college party as an official student of a university. Meanwhile, Sam makes a break in the case, but discovers a piece of information that is going to make their job infinitely harder.

**So that's it for now, but I hope to crank out a chapter sometime in the next week. Thursday's episode will probably inspire me. Have a great week and hope you enjoyed the chapter!**

**Rock on, chicas!**

**Danielle**


	17. Chapter 17

"Hurry up, I _really_ need to get drunk," Dean informed his girlfriend through his open window as he pulled up beside the line of cars next to her row of apartments. Scarlett shot him a smoldering look as the car rolled to a stop, her hands on her hips. It was in that moment Dean decided to turn his attention to the woman, drinking in every ounce of her appearance. So accustomed to her normal jeans and a tee, he was surprised to find her wearing jeans splattered with white paint. As he stared at them, he noticed they were incredibly formfitting and hugged her curves in all the right places, ending just below a corseted white tank with a black lace overlay. "You look good," he remarked, half-entranced by her appearance, emerald eyes finally landing on her high-heeled boots. _And those legs… God, those legs._

"Thanks," she smirked at him, opening the door and climbing into the backseat. "I try to clean up well."

"You do a _great_ job." He glanced up in the mirror as she chewed on her lower lip.

"Uh… Dean?" Sam interred, uncomfortably stirring in the front.

"Right." He shifted the Impala into drive. "Right."

* * *

It didn't take long for Dean to drive to the frat house Sophie had told Sam the party was being held, centrally located on Fraternity Row, a stone's throw from the College Avenue campus. In fact, it'd really only been a ten minute drive and a five minute search for parking.

However, Dean's incessant and prolonged glances in the rearview mirror were making for a risky drive, complete with severe swerving and a lot of yelling from the passenger seat.

The trio exited the Impala, doors shutting nearly in unison, and Sam stalked ahead of the couple towards the pillared-house, mumbling something under his breath.

"I think your brother is pissed at you," Scarlett noted as they began to follow Sam's footprints in the grassy lawn.

"He'll get over it," Dean snorted, turning his eyes towards her. "Plus, it's just as much your fault as it is mine."

Her hands found their way to her hips. "How could your inability to drive in a straight line _possibly_ be my fault?" In response, the hunter allowed his gaze to roam from her ankles to her chest. "First of all, up here," she began, waiting for his eyes to move and smacking him in the arm when they didn't.

"_Ow_."

"Secondly, _you_ were the one who couldn't keep his eyes on the road and apparently, has the attention span of a five year old in a pet store. Ergo, I win."

Dean's eyebrows furrowed together. "Did you just use the word 'ergo?'"

"Consider it lawyer vocab. I'll test you on Monday."

The older Winchester narrowed his eyes at her. "Are you sure Sam isn't your soulmate?"

Scarlett rolled her own eyes as they walked up the steps to the front door and were stopped by a pair of male students. "Ladies first." The tall guy with spiky red hair smiled and fanned his arm towards the house.

"Thank you." She returned his smile and stepped inside, Dean on her heels.

Only, the boy stopped him. "Guys gotta be on the list."

"You've got to be freaking kidding me," Dean shot back unamused.

Sensing her boyfriend was no longer following her, the blonde turned around. Sure enough, Dean was still stuck at the door. Quickly, she retraced her steps. "Excuse me, gentlemen… is there a problem?"

The other student, wearing a purple New York Yankees hat on his head that might as well have the word _douchebag_ scrawled on it, swiveled to look at her and found her leaning against the doorframe seductively, cleavage pushed up by her folder arms. Dean had to fight back a grin. "I'm uh… under strict instructions, not to… uh… let anyone in here that's not on the list."

"Well…" Scarlett bit down on her lower lip, twirling a strand of caramel hair around her index finger. "You see, my friend here came all the way from Kansas to see me and I promised I'd show him that Rutgers throws parties a hell of a lot better than Kansas State. I'm a music education major and I could swear that I put him on the list…" she trailed off, knowing that she had the attention of both men. Continuing to twirl her index finger, the packet of names flew out of the redhead's hands and landed on the floor behind her. "Oh, allow me to get that."

Scarlett turned around and bent in half to retrieve the papers, both frat boys craning their heads as she did so. Dean felt anger pulling at his collar as she returned to the doorframe and handed the Yankees fan back the pages.

"Can you please check again?" She batted her eyelashes at them.

The redhead nodded and dropped his eyes back to the list. Scarlett, however, managed to catch Dean's gaze and mouthed a few words at him. "Name?"

"Tim Conover," Dean answered smoothly, adjusting the sleeves of his leather jacket.

"Yeah, man… you're on here." He stepped aside and let him into the house. "Have a good time."

Dean slipped past the overzealous frat boys and began walking in step with his girlfriend. "You're a good little con artist, you know that?"

Scarlett shrugged and flipped her hair. "You should hear my southern belle routine. Gets them every time."

"What gets who every time?" a deep voice questioned ahead of them.

"Sam?" Dean's head cocked back. "How'd you get in here?"

"Slipped each guy a twenty."

Scarlett snorted, spotting her roommate on the other side of the house. "Amateur."

"Don't feel too bad, Sammy," his older brother assured him, clapping his hand against his back. "If you had a rack, you'd have gotten in too." Almost instantly, he felt a hard force against the back of his head. "Hey!"

"Asshole," the blonde muttered and began to make her way over to Sophie.

This time, it was Sam who snickered. "You're really going to have to work on that."

* * *

"Scarlett!" the girl exclaimed with a bright smile. "So glad you made it! You look fantastic!"

Despite the fact that most of her day was spent subtly pumping her for information, Scarlett had taken a genuine liking to Sophie. With her classes starting in two days, the twenty-one year old had offered to take her new roommate shopping for supplies and afterwards, showing her around campus.

Had the situation been different - and Scarlett _not_ been a two hundred seventy-six year old immortal – Sophie Walters could very have easily been the girl she'd tell her future children was her best friend since college.

And for the first time since Andrew's death, Scarlett found herself incredibly tempted to tell someone who wasn't on a need-to-know-basis her secret.

"Thank you!" the older woman returned with a grin of her own. "But you… I love your hair!"

Sophie brightly pushed up her copper ringlets. "Please, with the amount of hairspray I used… I can't be within a hundred feet of a lighter."

"I wouldn't suggest going in the backyard then," Scarlett teased, pushing back some of her own blonde hair.

She snorted, taking another sip from her red cup. "So… I'm gonna guess that Dean has no idea what's going on tonight?"

The other woman shook her head. "What gave it away?"

"Well, for one thing…" Sophie glanced over her shoulder and at her boyfriend. "He's wearing his leather jacket and jeans. Unless he's wearing a white tee-shirt underneath…"

"He is," Scarlett cut her off at the pass. "Sheer luck though. I certainly don't pick out his clothes for him."

"Sam's a much better dresser," Sophie concurred, perhaps emboldened by the liquid sloshing around in the red plastic.

Scarlet cast a glance behind her, eliciting a sarcastic wave from Dean and a subsequent eye roll of her own. "I might be able to talk to him, if you want…" she told the younger woman, turning back towards her.

"I… no," she returned firmly with a shake of her head that persisted. "No."

"You're _sure_?" Sophie nodded her head. "Okay then."

"Sure about what?" a voice popped into their conversation and Sophie's eyes went wide.

Scarlett winced. Her boyfriend had the worst timing. "Nothing of any importance to you, Winchester."

"I will tell you what is of major importance to me, though," Dean offered, even though a large part of her didn't really care at the moment. Likely, it was something incredibly insignificant. "The location of the beer in this joint."

Scarlett deserved bonus points for that one. Her abilities didn't include psychic perception. "Soph?"

The redhead laughed. "Downstairs in the basement are the kegs. Only the jungle juice is up here."

Dean squinted, his head tilting. "Jungle juice?"

Sam chuckled at his brother. "It's pretty much the default drink of college parties. It's like spiked punch… juice, soda, and vodka. Sometimes Everclear…"

Sophie chortled, "Rarely Everclear. We're on a budget, here, and it isn't anyone's birthday."

The corner of Sam's mouth twitched as his eyes fell on Sophie. "Rarely Everclear, then."

Dean felt the need to roll his emerald orbs dramatically. "Okaaay then. I'm going to get some REAL drinks… Scarlett?"

"Yeah, I'm coming." She winked at Sophie, leaving her and Sam alone as she followed Dean to the basement door, falling into step beside him.

He was like a five year old on Christmas morning. "Free beer is the best kind of beer, you know that?"

"Sure, Dean," she laughed as they found their way to the last step and the room drenched in a purple glow ahead of it.

"What is _this_?"

Scarlett took two steps into the light ahead of him and turned around, her hands displayed outward. "It's called a black light party."

Her position gave him an excuse to allow his eyes to roam over her body, which he gladly took the opportunity to do. It was then that his attention was drawn to something on her flesh he hadn't seen before. "What is that?" he pointed to her right arm.

"This?" she looked down at the limb in question. Illuminated by the ultraviolet bulbs was a series of rounded vines swirling up her arm, curling from wrist to just over her shoulder, marked by hollowed-out stars of various sizes. "Sophie did it for me… she's pretty artistic. Guess it kind of figures."

As if he needed something extra to stare at that night. "It's nice."

"Thanks." Her eyes suddenly moved away from his face to the space on the other side of the stairs. "I think we found your beer, by the way."

Dean's head whipped around and found the kegs resting in the corner of the room. He latched on her wrist and began pulling her towards them. "Come on."

Approaching the beer hub, Scarlett noticed a petite bottle blonde being held up over one of the large metal drums, the tap of the keg firmly her mouth. "That's the worst keg stand I've ever seen in my life."

"That's sayin' something," Dean mused with a laugh. She turned to him, her lips in a thin smile. She loved it when he laughed.

Then she noticed the hopeful look in his eyes. "Ohhhhh no."

"Oh, come _on_, Scarlett!" the hunter protested. "This is my first college party and for all we know, this could be my last."

He was playing the Apocalypse card. "Dean…" she threw her head back in frustration and then glanced at him again. It was working. "Sam has the puppy dog eyes, you have the Apocalypse card. Ugh. You _both_ suck."

And the five year old on Christmas made an encore appearance. "So you'll do it?"

She rubbed a hand over her face as the frat guys placed the blonde back on the tile. "Yeah. But I hate you right now. And I'm making you play beer pong next."

"Okay," he answered quickly moving over to the keg and grabbing a red cup full. Like Dean would ever turn down any opportunity to get drunk, let alone at no personal expense. "Hey…" he turned to the guy in a burgundy fitted tee that had the fraternity's Greek letters across the front. "My girlfriend wants to give it a try…" Dean gestured to Scarlett. "That alright with you?"

The guy looked over at his girlfriend and barely took a second's glance before agreeing. "Hell yeah, that's alright. Come on down, girl." Scarlett fought the urge to throw up at his overzealousness and sauntered over, Dean's mouth in a face-splitting grin. The guy handed her the tap and jilted his head, signaling his frat brothers. "Keep this in your mouth. I'm going to release the tab and then…"

"This isn't my first rodeo. I know what I'm doing," she snapped at him. As the other students approached them, she shook the trio off as they went to grab her. "I don't need help either."

By this point, a whole crowd had begun to gather as her voice carried and people's interests were piqued. "Okay then, go for it."

Scarlett slipped the tap into her mouth and readied herself. Then she pushed herself forward, placing a slender hand on each side of the metal barrel as her body was lifted into the air into a perfect straight line.

The group surrounding her had now broken into a repeated chant of "chug, chug, chug," and Dean couldn't help but point out to virtually anyone who would listen that she was his girlfriend.

"Dude," the guy in charge of the kegs addressed Dean. "She's on a full minute already. She's an _animal_."

His grin morphed into a smirk. "In more ways than one."

* * *

"So…" Sophie chewed on her bottom lip, racking her brain for something to say to Sam.

"So…" He repeated after her, imagining his brother's voice in his head telling him how smooth he was being. "Thanks for the help in the library this afternoon. It was really helpful."

The redhead shrugged. "It really wasn't a big deal. Like I said, my parents went here…"

"They must be really proud that you're graduating from their alma mater." Her eyes fell, her facing falling with them, and Sam quickly realized he'd struck a nerve. "Sophie?"

"They're uh…" she trailed off, avoiding his eyes as her own focused on the floor. "They're dead."

"Shit, I'm sorry…"

"You didn't know." She shook her head. "Not exactly something that comes up in regular conversation."

His green orbs studied her face, softened in remorse. "My parents are dead too. My mom when I was just a baby, my dad about three years ago."

Her head lifted and she allowed her gaze to return to his emerald eyes. "I'm sorry, Sam." Sophie ran her fingers across the skin beneath her eyes, wiping away the tears. "God, I'm such a buzzkill."

"Hey…" Sam placed a hand on her shoulder, causing her to freeze. "You are _not_ a buzzkill. It's nice to talk to someone who isn't as emotionally challenged as my brother."

Sophie let out a laugh from beneath her tears. "Your brother certainly is an interesting character."

"Tell me about it," he said with an amused smile. "Listen, I'm not really in the mood to party. That's more Dean's thing. Do you want to get out of here?" When he noticed her quirked eyebrow, he quickly continued, "And I mean that in a completely non-Dean way. Grab some coffee, maybe talk? I don't really get to talk to anyone who isn't my brother or his girlfriend."

"I'd like that." She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and grinned at him. "Do you mind if we go back to my apartment?" This time, it was Sam Winchester who shot her a suspicious look. Her eyes widened. "No… God, no. Again, not in a Dean way." She gestured down to her feet. "Three inch stiletto heels were not meant to be walked in and I'm an hour away from having dancer's feet. I just want to go back and change." She let out an awkward chuckle. "Plus, I have plenty of coffee at our apartment. It's not even the shit they feed us at the dining hall. It's legit."

Sam zipped up his gray hoodie as he began to walk towards the door. "Can't be worse than the absolute shit I've been drinking all these years."

"You know," Sophie said randomly, following the tall twenty-six year old. "I love how we use your brother as our moral compass in daily conversation."

He let out a hearty laugh as they slipped past the frat boys-turned bouncers still posted at the front door. "Well, I find it generally makes you feel better about your own life. If we used Scarlett, I'm pretty sure we'd all feel like crap."

* * *

Two minutes and thirty-five seconds later, Scarlett Lucas dismounted the steel beer keg to a round of applause. After popping the tap from between her lips, she handed it back to the frat boy. "Thanks."

Barely registering the rubber and metal resting in his fingers, he stared at her as she walked away, overcome by awe. "Don't mention it."

Of course, she found Dean sporting the most obnoxious grin she'd ever seen in her life and she had had the misfortune of encountering former-President George W. Bush when he was still governor of Texas. "Happy now?"

"Not yet." He shook his head, pulling her to the other side of the basement. "Beer pong. You and me… versus the world. Right now."

Still holding a red Solo cup in his hand, Dean Winchester wrapped his arm around the waist of his girlfriend. Sixteen beer pong victories in a row, and countless sunken cups later, Scarlett had declared them officially retired for the night in the hopes of avoiding a trip to the local ER for Dean's inevitable alcohol poisoning. Judging by the amount of empty beer cans littered around the end of the table, and the overly gratuitous half-filling the frat brothers were insisting upon, Dean was fifteen different ways of smashed.

"That…was awesome." He decided, his trademark smirk ten times more adorable than usual.

"You're shitfaced right now…" she laughed as her cheeks began to warm from the alcohol. "This is the problem with beer pong… sometimes you've got too much skill for your own good."

Dean contemplated this for a moment, his face growing serious, then grinned widely. "I'm too awesome for beer pong. Hell yeah!"

"Okaaaay." She rolled her eyes at him, her arm finding its way around his torso as the blonde led him up the stairs. "Time to get you back to the apartment. Where are your keys?"

As they made their way through the door to the first floor, Dean reared his head towards her and smirked yet again. "I forgot. I guess you'll have to search for them… with your hands."

"_Or_," she countered, her thin fingers hooking into the pocket of his brown button down that had been layered over a white tee-shirt and retrieving the clanging metal from them. "I could just take a fifty-fifty shot at the pockets of your shirt."

* * *

Sam and Sophie stood at the bus stop, looking at the digital screen mounted on one of the supports of the canopy above their heads.

"Thirty five minutes," Sophie laughed sarcastically. "Gotta love Rutgers. First class all the way."

"At least you guys have a bus system. Back west, it was either walk, bike, or drive your own car. And with tuition prices like those, you were lucky to afford a pair of good walking shoes."

"I'm lucky that I get both financial aid and scholarships," she stated, wrapping her arms around herself. "What state money doesn't cover, legacy grants seem to. I bet you didn't go to UCLA like Scarlett and Dean."

Sam coughed, trying to buy himself sometime as he cleared his throat. "I, uh… I didn't. Well, for the first year, anyway. I went to Stanford."

"What made you leave?"

"A few things, I guess. My…" he trailed off, glancing around uncomfortably and then leaning on the nearest post. "My girlfriend died in a fire in our apartment. After that, I decided I didn't want to be away from my brother anymore. Six hours was too far away. So I moved in with Scarlett and Dean."

Moments later, Sophie's hand found her way to Sam's arm. "Sam, I'm so sorry… I shouldn't have pried."

He placed his massive hand over hers. "It's okay. It's actually good to get it off my chest… talk about it with someone who isn't my brother or his girlfriend."

"Let me make it up to you…" she pulled away from him, walking in the opposite direction. "Have you been to the grease trucks yet?"

He took a few strides to catch up to her. "The what?"

"Oh my God, you're deprived!" she laughed as he finally closed the gap between them. "The fat sandwiches are every college student's dream! Mozzarella sticks, chicken fingers, French fries, sometimes more… all piled into a sub roll. Come _on,_ Sam!"

Sam wrinkled his nose. "That sounds like the contents of my brother's stomach."

"It's really not as bad as it sounds," Sophie assured him as they stopped in front of a small food truck, which vaguely reminded Sam of an ice cream truck that handed out heart attacks on a roll. "Pick what you want…"

His forest green eyes roamed the printed posted beside the window and finally landed on one he figured he could tolerate. "Uh… a Fat Darrell…" he decided, pointing to the item that featured chicken fingers, mozzarella sticks, French fries, and marinara sauce.

Sophie smiled and turned to the man hanging out the window. "Two please." Less than thirty seconds later, he handed a paper bag-wrapped sandwich to each student. She handed him the money and turned to the tall man beside her, nudging him with her elbow. "Sam… it's not going to kill you."

"Maybe not _now_," Sam answered with a quirked eyebrow, hesitantly unwrapping the concoction. "You sure this tastes good?" The redhead nodded and Sam swooped in to take a bite."

* * *

"Tonight was AWESOME," Dean declared, shoving open the door to his apartment so hard that it bashed into the concrete wall perpendicular to it. "I don't know _how_ you drove."

"_I_ didn't drive," she pointed out, clicking the door softly shut behind her. "That's the beauty of knowing angels… they can move entire vehicles when they want to, even if there are people inside."

By the time she turned the corner, Dean was already halfway inside the refrigerator, pulling a six pack from the back-end of a shelf. "I knew we got here waaaay too fast."

The door slammed shut, the contents rattling inside the appliance. "Nothing like an ice cold beer. Think fast!" he called to her, chucking a can at her incredibly fast, drunkenness considered.

Her hand shot out, freezing the silver can in mid-air. "Really, Dean?"

"That never gets old," he mused, cracking a can open and taking a long gulp. "But this music…" he began, looking up at the ceiling from which the awful hip hop was coming. "SHOULD HAVE STAYED IN 1998, WHERE EMINEM BELONGS!"

The beer still hovering in front of her, Scarlett had to fight off a chuckle. "Dean!"

"Sorry… just drink the beer. It'll make me feel like less of a drunk."

"You're already enough of a lush for the both of us," Scarlett pointed out.

"Come onnnnnn!" He complained. "It'll make me happy."

She groaned. "Fine." The can flew into her hand and she pulled the tab, gulping down the entire can in under sixty seconds. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she sent it sailing across the kitchenette and into the recycling bin. "Happy now?"

"So happy, I could die and know my life was complete." She frowned at him, her eyes narrowing as she began to walk into what he and his brother had turned into a study. "What? I thought it was funny." He hopped to his feet and strode quickly to catch her.

"It wasn't."

"Okay," he agreed and grabbed onto her arm, pulling her back to face him. "Okay, you're right. I'm sorry."

She instantly straightened. "Did you just apologize?"

"I'm not repeating myself, if that's what you're asking. I only apologize sincerely once a year and you got it. Even if I _am_ shitfaced." He rolled his eyes as she started laughing at him. "Shut up."

"The scary thing is that, underneath all that beer, I actually believe you might be serious, Dean."

"How's this for serious? Dance with me."

She snorted. "I'm not drunk, you know. I don't process alcohol the same way you do. It'll be out of my system in the next fifteen minutes."

"Well then…" Dean reached for her hips, pulling her closer to him. "I guess I better take advantage of you while I still can.

Scarlett's eyes were holding Dean's emerald gaze firmly, her warm breath tickling his ear as their bodies moved to the music as one. The music filling her head was driving her to the point of insanity, the pounding bass and auto-tuned vocals doing nothing to connect her body to the rhythm. That was if there even was one. Instead, she took it upon herself to hum a song, pushing the ridiculous hip-hop track from her brain.

Dean pulled back to look at her and the blonde recognized he was considerably more sober than before. "Are you humming Zeppelin?"

She smirked at him. "This music sucks and 'Since I've Been Loving You' seemed more appropriate."

"You keep singing that and we're not going to get through the song."

Scarlett shrugged, her teeth dragging across her lower lip."I wasn't planning on it."

His lips parted cockily. "That's a shame… I couldn't wait to hear you tackle Page's solo."

She sighed dramatically. "I guess I'll just have to make it worth your while."

* * *

"Sam, can you stop talking texting Dean about the sandwich now?" Sophie sighed, rolling her eyes as she twisted her hair into a bun and secured it with a scrunchie. "It's a little scary."

Sam laughed and placed his cell phone down on the table. "You can hold onto it… eliminate the temptation for me."

Her blue eyes narrowed at him and as she swiped it from the coffee table, he noticed she'd changed into a more comfortable pair of acid washed jeans and a loose-fitting Victoria Secret Pink tee. The phone buzzed in her hand and Sophie laughed as she read the message. "How did your parents produce two entirely different guys?"

"Oh shit…" Sam rubbed a hand across his forehead. "What did he say?" Continuing to giggle, the redhead flipped the hunter back his cell phone. "I thought you weren't going to give this back to me?"

"Dean's about to get laid," she responded nonchalantly. "I highly doubt he'll be texting you anytime soon."

"Ugh…" He grimaced. "I don't know if I'm more grossed out by the fact that he felt the need to tell me or that I have to worry about whether I can sleep in my bed ever again."

Sophie reached opened up a cabinet above the sink and plucked two teal mugs off of a shelf, closing the door shortly thereafter. "Well, I have a spare bedroom here. If you're too uncomfortable or Dean declares the apartment his permanent love den, you're more than welcome to it… coffee?" Sam nodded and she began pouring the liquid into each of the mugs. "You seem like a guy who takes his coffee black."

"I've done a lot of driving in my lifetime," Sam admitted to her without giving too much away, despite his overwhelming desire to. "I learned what kept me awake the longest pretty quick," he added with a laugh, taking the ceramic cup from her grasp. "Thanks. You've been way too good to me."

She shrugged, drizzling some flavored creamer into her coffee before popping it back into the fridge. "It's weird… I just feel like we're connected in some way, but I just can't put my finger on it. All of our similarities can't be coincidental."

"So you're saying you believe in fate?"

"I wouldn't go _that_ far, Sam," she snorted, leaning against the counter and taking a long sip of the hot drink. "More like… fortunate happenstance."

This time it was Sam's turn to shrug. "Maybe. I think people that understand each other on an emotional level are just naturally drawn to each other."

Her thin lips cracked into a smile. "That's the Stanford talking."

"I guess some habits are hard to break," he mused, drinking from his mug and then placing it down on the coffee table.

"Listen, Sam… I need an opinion on this from a guy who isn't heavily involved in this whole Glee Club thing. And before you say anything, I saw you at practice today. You looked beyond miserable," she said with an amused grin. "You're only there because your brother and Scarlett are there. And I'm hoping that makes you objective."

His tone instantly grew serious. "Is everything okay? Is something going on?"

"Yes… no…" she trailed off and the flustered, threw her left hand up in the air. "Well, I don't know." Sophie walked over to him from the kitchen and sat down beside him on the couch, flustered. "It's no secret among those of us who have been in the Glee Club for a while that Quint's got a reputation for taking a uh… _special_ interest in some of his female students. And they tend to be the ones who get the solos in the major showcases." She glanced down at the teal ceramic mug in her hands. "It's my last year here… and I've never gotten so much as a note of a solo. Those girls… are being courted by Opera houses and Broadway producers. Heather and Becca were in talks with record companies. And me? I'm busy recording demo CDs on my Macbook in the bathroom." She sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Sam, am I an awful person if I give in?"

Had Sam been holding onto the coffee mug, he was certain it would have spilled all over his lap or gone crashing to the floor. It wasn't the revelation that revered chorale director Philippe Quint was sleeping with some of his female ingénues that would have spurred the reaction. Instead, it was the fact that Sophie's roommates, two of the girls who had been attacked, were carrying on relationships with him.

However, the inevitable text message to Scarlett and Dean would have to wait. For one thing, they were both busy in their own extracurricular activities.

But more importantly, there was a fragile, yet impressive young woman in front of him who reminded him so much of himself five years ago and she needed to be assured that her idealism and faith in mankind should not be thrown away. Not for anything. Not for anyone.

**A/N: Oh my God, I know. It's been so incredibly long. But I must have re-written this chapter six or seven times before I felt confident enough that I got it right. A lot of stuff I actually cut from the chapter and saved for later… but truth be told, I'd get inspired for a scene or few lines of dialogue and have to let it play out in my random page, where all of my miscellaneous ideas for the story reside.**

**I hope this extra-long… or as the studio execs refer to it: super-sized… chapter helped make the wait a little more worthwhile. **

**I had to take a small break from writing for exams that fell before midterms and by the time I was ready to get back to the adventures of Sam, Dean, and Scarlett, Hellatus Part 2 had arrived. This one was really torture. But you can thank Led Zeppelin, Jack's Mannequin, and the Supernatural novel "Heart of the Dragon" for bringing me back to the land of fan fiction. In all honesty, it's great to be back. I feel like this chapter posed a lot of problems and hurdles or me, so to get over it feels like I've been rejuvenated. The Rutgers mystery should wrap up somewhere around next chapter or Chapter 19. One of the two… and then the story is going to intersect the actual TV plotline for a while. There were definitely a few situations and scenes in episodes where I instantly realized Scarlett could fit in. Yet, there were also some I was dying to tie her into, but will need to alter details and provide sufficient setup in order to do so. But that's one of the challenges that writing this story possesses and it's one I look forward to facing.**

**For the record, it would have hurt my soul to let my birthday go by this coming Sunday (yes, my birthday falls on Easter) without an update.**

**I realize that I haven't reviewed a single episode since Sam, Interrupted, so I'll briefly do that now. **

_**Spoiler ALERT – Episodes**_

**Swap Meat was one of those episodes that was clearly meant to be funny. We saw a woman in a bar trying to pick up Sam Winchester and Jared was phenomenal playing an awkward teenage version of himself. Although, let's be serious for a moment here… I've never met a SINGLE seventeen year old (and I'm only pushing twenty, lest we forget) who would refer to it as "the sex." But after the overwhelmingly heavy and angsty episodes that were Abandon All Hope and the much fresher-in-mind Sam, Interrupted, a little humor was definitely needed.**

**I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that The Song Remains the Same has probably made it onto my list Top 5 favorite Supernatural Episodes. In fact, it's no surprise to me that Sera Gamble penned this one, as she hasn't written an episode I haven't liked. This is why I have faith that SPN will remain the show we've come to love in Season 6, when she takes over as show-runner. But I digress…**

**Now, I LOVED Changing Channels and the Curious Case of Dean Winchester, mainly because they were funny. But this episode was so incredibly well-rounded in so many ways, I can't heap enough praise onto it. Of course, there was the humor… with Anna showing up in one of Dean's more mature dreams and Dean's definition of Team Free Will: "an ex-blood junkie, one drop-out with six bucks to his name, and Mr. Comatose." Yet, there were more poignant moments, like when Sam and Dean try to convince Mary that not being born is not the same as dying and they're okay with never existing at all, that made my heart want to rip itself out of my chest. Now, Michael taking possession of John was entirely unexpected and incredibly powerful to the point in which I got goosebumps, but my favorite moment of the episode was an understated one that I don't think many noticed. **

**It was at the very beginning of the episode, when Castiel met Anna and refused to help her go back in time and kill Mary and John so that Sam would not be born. For most of last season and the first half of this one, Castiel was anything but amiable towards Sam. In Season 4, he knew the dangerous path that the younger Winchester was heading down and sensed the dormant darkness within him, while in the first half of Season 5, he clearly held Sam's starting of the Apocalypse, and his own lack of popularity in Heaven, against him. Often, as you will notice, he either spoke at the brothers as an entity or directly to Dean, but not directly to Sam, unless he was chiding him for his behavior. But for the first time, Castiel shows that he has begun to forgive Sam and that he has actual grown quite fond of him in a mere sentence: "The answer is still no… because Sam is my friend." **

**Another great moment is when Mary looks at the ceramic angel by Dean's crib, not entirely sure why she bought it in the first place, assures the baby inside of her that "It's okay. It's all okay. Angels are watching over you." When you consider that was the last thing she ever said to her son, it's heartwrenching. And for the record, I'll never listen to 'Hey Jude' in the same way ever again.**

**My Bloody Valentine was an interesting way to move towards Hellatus Part 2. It was interesting how they incorporated the second Horseman, Famine, into the show in a way I didn't expect. I was surprised that a: Cas fell victim to the Horseman because Jimmy was starving, b: Dean, the one with the overwhelming fondness for booze and women, wasn't affected at all, and that c: Sam had to go through his blood addiction all over again. Not going to lie… as a person who has come to know her alcohol and the limitations many of the people around her have concerning it, watching Dean take swigs from a half-empty bottle of whiskey that I can safely assume started as full when the night began… his eyes brimming with tears… was absolutely devastating. And can someone get Jensen Ackles a DAMN EMMY, **_**PLEASE**_**?**

**Dead Men Don't Wear Plaid shined a light on the little-showcased range that Jim Beaver possesses. It was great to get some background on Bobby's wife and see what kind of a man he was **_**before**_** he became a hunter. However, after an episode as heavy and Horseman-laden as My Blood Valentine was, I wish they had gone back to the Monster of the Week instead of throwing in Horseman #3. But clearly, they know what they're doing. And it's not like I would have enjoyed watching Sam and Dean get shot to death first episode back from the break. It was a solid episode.**

_**End Spoilers**_

**Okay. I lied. It wasn't brief. But The Song Remains the Same was too good an episode to discuss in just a paragraph. It's the writer in me. I can't **_**help **_**it. But hopefully, I brought to attention some details or opinions you haven't heard before. Or ones you enjoyed.**

**Now, the highly-anticipated review replies:**

**Jess-Tyson – **Thanks! I'm a big Glee fan myself and initially got the idea for the medley from the It's My Life/Confessions mashup! And, not going to lie, it might be in my own personal Metallicar's song rotation, sandwiched between AC/DC and Guns n Roses.

**TwilightEclps – **Ask and you shall receive! Even though it's a bit late.

**Midnight LeAnn – **Just you wait until rehearsal next chapter!

**JulietaGabbana – **Thank you! I really love Rutgers. It's a great campus with a lot of amazing history. It's kind of fun to walk around the campus and brainstorm as I go. We definitely have a talented Glee Club, but they're not in the same vein as the club on the TV show and the Show Choir I was in during my middle school years. We did a Disney medley, which I must admit, was kind of awesome. And it's so funny that you bring up Sophie because there's going to be a big payoff as far as she's concerned in more ways than one. Not sure how I'm working it in yet, though. I'm so glad you think I have a diverse vocabulary! There are a lot of times I sit around and read my story, going "Danielle… how many times are you going to use the word laugh or chuckle in a single chapter? Figure something else OUT!" A lot of it is me, going to look through a thesaurus in order to come up with a better word. I can't stress that enough. And hell YEAH, there are a lot more awesome chapters on the way. All of my other stories that I've completed, which are of the wrestling genre, ended around 21-22 chapters. This one's going to blow that away, as long as you all will have me!

**Klandgraf2007 – **I think Dean got a liiiitle too overexcited, don't you?

**Ephona – **Thank you so much!

**Lemonwedges4 – **Everyone seems to find Bon Jovi so humorous! I couldn't have planned it out any better. Springsteen aside, Bon Jovi is the pride of New Jersey and I grew up with people whose parents know him personally.

**Moonfan2012 – **Thank you… sorry for the wait!

**So spoilers and cutting floor aside, that's pretty much it for this chapter. Please excuse any typos, as it is 3am in New Jersey and I'm desperate to get this out there to you all! **

**Now my birthday is this Sunday, April 4****th****… can you all give me a review as a birthday present? (And Dean/Danielle one-shots are an acceptable form of a gift, as well! Haha) The big 2-0. Only one more milestone to go… and I have no idea where the time went!**

**My gifts to you…**

**Spoilers: It turns out that the staff changes that Dean Stauffer mentioned are a lot more important than he originally thought; Scarlett has a heart to heart with Sophie that leads her to do something drastic down the road, with results that are all too familiar to Sam; Classes start… and Dean's a little sensitive when it comes to the topic of angels.**

**Cutting Room Floor: Heart to heart scene mentioned in the spoilers, will be put into next chapter; a confrontation with Zachariah that I cannot spoil; the performing arts fraternity tries to recruit Dean, with little success.**

**Oh... and for those of you wondering, those Fat Sandwiches do exist and they are world famous. Google it. And salivate.  
**

**Again, please read and review and to my Jewish readers out there, like myself… Happy Passover!**

**And in case I don't post before Sunday, Happy Easter, as well!**

**Danielle**


	18. Chapter 18

_From: Sam_

_Whenever you get this, you NEED to call me. I think we might have cracked this case wide open._

"I need to call Sam," Dean announced, sitting up in bed with his phone clutched between his fingers.

Scarlett rolled towards him and propped her head up with her hand. "Is everything okay?"

He turned to look at her. "He thinks he made a break in the case."

"You should call him."

"I'm gonna call him."

"Okay."

"Okay." He nodded and clicked the send button.

* * *

"Hello?"

"What did you find?" Dean asked, cutting right to the chase.

"Well, _apparently_," Sam began, clutching the phone to his ear. "A certain choir director has a habit of trading solos for a little _company_."

His brother groaned in disgust. "Isn't he quite the budding entrepreneur?" Sam heard a muffled voice on the other side. "How did you find out?"

He swallowed hard. "Sophie told me."

"What exactly did she- " She began to ask, but his voice immediately became distant. "Hey!"

"Sam?" A voice laced with concern was now center stage in his ear. "Sam, where are you?"

"I'm outside of your apartment complex," the younger Winchester replied, sinking down onto one of the picnic tables on the grass. "She's still inside."

Her voice became louder. "What did Sophie tell you?"

"Whenever Quint takes a special interest in his female students, they tend to be the ones who get the solos in the major showcases," Sam explained, running a hand through his floppy hair. "Heather and Rebecca, her old roommates, were involved with him at the time of their attacks and…" he trailed off, not wanting to finish the thought.

But it wasn't lost on Scarlett. "_Sam_," she addressed him in a tone he had never quite heard before. "What are you leaving out?"

"He's propositioning Sophie…" he exhaled. "And she's contemplating saying yes."

There was silence on the other end and it was one that Sam was certain he wasn't going to be the one to break. Instead, Dean was the one who spoke up as his younger brother realized he was now on speakerphone. "Maybe we should let her say yes."

"No," came Scarlett's harsh tone.

"We can catch the spirit in the act…"

"Sam, you did tell her to say no, right?" she breezed over her boyfriend's remarks.

"Of course I did," Sam assured her.

"Good," Scarlett affirmed with a nod of her head. "I think I have a plan."

After being effectively silenced by his girlfriend, Dean found the opportune time to speak again. "Make an excuse to get out of there. We need to get our shit together." And before his brother could respond, the older hunt snapped his phone shut. "I hope this plan of yours is good."

"It is."

"Can you fill me in?" Dean asked, placing the phone back onto the air conditioner.

She shook her head at him. "Not until Sam gets here…" Her lips split into a smile. "But before he does, I suggest you put your pants on. I believe we've all had our fair share of awkwardness for one day."

* * *

"No."

Scarlett narrowed her eyes at the man before her. "I didn't ask for your permission."

"We haven't exactly considered all of our options, Scarlett," Sam reasoned, trying to avoid the argument that was brewing between his brother and his brother's girlfriend.

The blonde placed her hand on the back of the nearest chair tucked under the kitchen table, steadying her weight against it. "Okay, fair enough." After all, she was a lawyer. It was supposed to be in her nature to be logical. "What are our options?"

"Well, clearly... there's already one on the table," Dean pointed out, the slightest hint of impatience in his voice.

"It was never _on_ the table to begin with, Dean," she retorted sharply. "And since there isn't another option…"

He pushed off the wall he was leaning against. "I have just as much say in this now as you do, Scarlett."

"I know you've probably never had a serious relationship before in your life, so I'm just going to fill you in," she snapped at him. "You don't."

"Oh, good," Dean shot back, barely missing a step. "Two weeks 'til our showdown with the Devil and you're PMS-ing. How appropriate."

"You do whatever _you_ want." Scarlett held her hands up in surrender and then swiped her keys off the kitchen table. "But I'm going to do whatever _I _want. And I don't care if you like it because it's _my _decision. NOT yours."

As she breezed past him, Sam called out, "Where are you going?"

"My apartment. I'll see you in class."

"But that's not until…" The door slammed, cutting off the younger Winchester's sentence. "Tuesday."

* * *

For the better part of an hour, Scarlett sat on the front steps of her apartment quad, just staring up at the stars. She knew that her faith was being tested, not just by the Apocalypse, but by those she cared for. And it was up to her to maintain such strong trust in her father.

Yet, it was days like these that made it difficult; made her wish her mother was still around.

So when someone spoke from beside her, there was a split second Scarlett that convinced it was Elizabeth. "You and Dean are having problems?"

"I think we're having trouble adjusting to each other, Anna." It sucked to be disappointed. "Or maybe I'm the one having trouble adjusting to him. I don't know."

Anna contemplated it for a moment, her eyes still fixated ahead of her. "He is a human of little faith. And you are neither human, nor faithless. You're not the most likely of matches."

"So why Dean, then?" Scarlett asked, her full attention now on the angel. "Why not Sam?"

"Why do you propose Sam as a better match?" the redhead inquired curiously.

She shrugged. "I don't know. He and I are just so… at ease around each other. We understand each other. "

"Perhaps you share more common ground," Anna suggested. "Both of your parents have died, as have previous romantic partners. You share empathy."

The blonde snorted. "You make it seem so cut and dry."

"To be honest, Scarlett, I do not find either to be an appropriate match for you," the angel admitted. "Dean is a man of loose morals and little faith. Sam has questionable judgment and faith that is irrevocably broken. Neither seems an adequate choice."

"You say Dean has little faith and Sam's is broken. Aren't they the same thing?"

Anna shook her head. "Not in the slightest."

"Ahh…" she nodded, looking away from the angel and down at the concrete in thought. This was the first time that Anna had ever mentioned her disapproval of the Winchesters, which somewhat surprised her. Especially considering how they'd saved her. Maybe it was that it had taken quite a long time for her to do so, yet Castiel had voiced his disappointments in Sam rather openly from the beginning or that it was somewhat out of character for her that caught her off guard. Either way, Scarlett wasn't sure what to make of it. Her gaze moved back towards the woman beside her. "So what _is _the…" But she was gone. "Difference."

* * *

Monday mornings had never been a favorite of Dean Winchester for the short time he was in high school and it was becoming increasingly apparent that the trend had continued into college.

To make matters worse, it was 8:55 in the morning, he was running on three hours sleep, and the professor of his New Testament class was discussing how angels are considered the most righteous of all beings in existence.

Maybe if Dean had woken up on time, he would have been able to get a cup of coffee into his system before he needed to be on the second floor of the Ruth Adams Building. However, the lack of caffeine had also created a lack of good judgment.

So clearly, the coffee was to blame when Dean Winchester decided laughing at Professor Wallace's description of angels was a good idea.

* * *

Unlike his older brother, Sam Winchester found himself easing back into his old routine. The same feeling of eagerness to soak up as much information as he could was still planted in his brain, prevalent in a way it hadn't been in almost five years.

Walking out of the empty apartment, an hour after Dean had hauled ass out of the building, he felt the slightest twinge of uneasiness settle in. It didn't take long to figure out that he was missing a major part of the old routine and there was no way to reclaim that piece.

By the time he arrived at his first lecture with Professor Rubenstein, the twinge had grown into an ache. With a heavy sigh, he dropped his backpack onto the open fold-up chair next to his in the lecture hall and sunk down into the one on the aisle.

Attending to his caffeine fix with one hand, Sam reached for the cell phone stashed away in his pocket as he felt his thigh vibrate.

Flipping the phone open, he was greeted by a flying envelope.

_From: Scarlett_

_Your brother may be a dick, but I still love you. Have a great first day at school. – S_

And suddenly, the pain was gone.

* * *

Sometimes, Scarlett Lucas caught herself wishing Sam Winchester was her soulmate.

It wasn't like it was a farfetched notion. He was thoughtful in ways most guys, let alone humans, were not, and he always made sure that she was treated like a regular person. Of course, Sam was one of few individuals she had met in recent years that could actually match her intellectually and they once had an entire conversation in Spanish about Dean while he was still in the room.

But the thing that really got to her, more than any other positive she could list, was his similarity to her deceased fiancé. In fact, their personalities were so close to being identical, it actually scared the divine woman.

So just like the notes she used to have one of the farmhands deliver to Andrew before a long week of work, Scarlett sent Sam a more updated version because after all, he would always be there for her, even when his jackass of an older brother was not.

Yes, Scarlett Lucas often found herself wishing Sam Winchester was her soulmate… and the latest occurrence just happened to be in her American Revolution class on the second floor of the Ruth Adams Building.

* * *

"Scarlett, walk faster."

"What?" she asked in confusion, eyebrows furrowed as she turned her head towards Sophie, who was in the same class as she had just been in.

The redhead's teeth ground together through her smile. "Dean is about twenty feet behind us. Walk. Faster."

"Scarlett?" a deep voice that reminded the older roommate of gravel called to her.

But she ignored him, picking up the pace. The last thing she needed at 10:30 in the morning was to have to deal with the man who currently held the top spot on her shit list. "Don't acknowledge him, okay?" She tilted her head at her friend, who nodded.

"Sophie?" he continued, but she pretended not to hear him, as well. "You can't ignore me forever."

The blonde pushed through the backdoor and scurried down the stairs with her friend as the older Winchester stood at the exit watching.

"He's not wrong, you know," Sophie sighed, clutching her two textbooks to her chest as they began walking in the general direction of the bus stop.

"I know," Scarlett admitted. "But I _can_ ignore him until tomorrow."

* * *

Sleep wasn't coming easily for Scarlett that night. While Sophie was out cold across the small room, her new roommate was doing her best impersonation of an insomniac.

There were a lot of things on her mind, Winchesters and Apocalypse aside. For the most part, the danger Sophie was about to put herself in was on the forefront of her worries. There were even a few times over dinner that she had almost worked up the nerve to tell her everything concerning her life, including her greatest secrets. Pretending to be an orphan who had met her boyfriend while traveling after high school was proving to be difficult and it was becoming harder and harder to keep up with her own lies, let alone the ones the Winchesters were probably telling.

And then there was the feeling of normalcy she found in the small apartment on the overwhelmingly green campus. For three days, she'd recaptured a time in her life that should have been spent figuring out her path in life instead of taking the one that had been laid out for her from the day she was born. This could be her life or what was likely left of it anyway. She could go to school during the week, party on the weekends, and start her life over the way it should be lived. Scarlett could hit the reset button, for just a few weeks, and finally have the memories she was missing out on.

No matter what she told Sam, there was always that little piece of her, no matter how small, that craved a different ending to her story. What would it be like to be mortal, to possess fear of harm and death? Feel like you're given pages of a scrapbook to fill without the ability to add more paper to the binding?

To be _human_?

But she knew it wasn't an option. They couldn't stay, not for a day longer than they had to. The three hunters had to stay sharp, had to stay on top of their game. Because they were Planet Earth's last hope.

"That is precisely what makes you only half-human." It was a voice that after almost two hundred eighty years, could never catch her off guard.

"It would have been easier if I weren't," she replied, sitting up in bed. "I guess I did doze off after all."

The angel nodded, walking further away from the doorframe. "Why do you believe it would be easier?"

"I'd be nothing but bones in a box, six feet into the ground by now."

"And humanity would be without hope."

"Let's be honest, Cas," Scarlett sighed, looking up at him. "If it weren't me, it would be someone else."

The trench coat swayed as he stood before her. "It would always have been you. You were created in your Father's image. You may not have bore any resemblance to Elizabeth Parker, but your soul would have always been the same."

"I don't know whether to feel reassured by that answer or more troubled," she answered him honestly.

"It has taken me many years to understand human emotion and thought, but regardless, I have always known that no one could have done it but you, Scarlett," Castiel informed her with the slightest hint of sincerity. "And I have faith that there will come a time in which you _will_ have that normal life that you have so heavily desired. It might not be for a while, but it will come."

Scarlett put her hand to her mouth in thought, her lips brushing over her knuckles. "You do know I'm relatively certain that I'm not going to survive this thing."

"It is certainly a possibility."

The blonde couldn't help but snort at the angel's bluntness. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, Cas."

"But so is the chance that you will live."

She brought her knees to her chest, clasping her arms around them. "So what do I do in the meantime? Not think about it at all?"

Castiel contemplated her questions for a moment. "I do not believe you will able to do that, Scarlett. You must do as much as you can to fight evil in the next two weeks. Conceivably, you should do things along the way that you would not have done in the past, when all you had was time."

A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "I'm guessing that also applies to my problems with Dean."

"Take what I say as you will."

"I still don't understand why it's Dean," she admitted to him, just as she had done to Anna earlier. "It's like Sam and I have male and female versions of the same brain."

"But you do not possess male and female versions of the same soul," he responded, not missing a beat. "I know that you find it difficult to comprehend. It is understandable. However, you must know I would not have risked all that I did for a human had I not possessed good reason," he responded. "I have much faith in Dean, even if he does not have any in himself. Perhaps you should, as well."

And then, he was gone.

* * *

**A/N: I apologize for the long wait. But finals start in a week and a half and I was finding it hard to set aside time to write.**

**I'm not going to go crazy reviewing each episode that I've yet to in my chapters, but I will say that the 100****th**** episode was absolutely fantastic and I was pleasantly surprised by the return of Adam. Something tells me, schedule permitting, Kripke would have wanted to bring back John instead. But I was satisfied with their use of Winchester #3. I think my favorite moment of all was the very end, in which Dean told Sam he was the reason he didn't say yes. Hammer of the Gods kind of bothered me for a short while, mainly because the MAJOR events of the previous episode was kind of wasted on a one liner about finding Adam, but it redeemed itself. I liked that the appearance of other gods throughout Supernatural was finally explained and Gabriel's comic relief in the face of his own brother. "Luci, I'm home" got me to laugh, when I didn't expect it to. I will say though, I'm going to miss Richard Speight, Jr.'s presence in the show. Hopefully, he'll still find his way to all of the conventions.**

**I'm trying to keep this author's note as brief as possible, as it's 3:30am by me and I really need to get back to studying. I appreciate all of your reviews, but was a little disappointed in Chapter 17's showing of four. On my birthday.**

**So here's hoping you guys come out in some bigger numbers.**

**Shout-outs:**

**Mahlia – **I didn't want to be responsible for the deaths of any SPN-ers. That'd look really bad on my part. I always wanted to get Dean into a frat house on the show. I mean, he's been to a brothel. A fraternity is as close to that as you can get. A lot of the parties on the College Avenue campus ARE busted because it's frat row, whereas on Cook (my campus), no one really cares. But on Halloween last year, we had to hightail it out of the basement door and I ran for my life in a woodland fairy costume, complete with humongous wings. Enjoy that image. Thank you so much for reviewing and I promise, there's going to be a lot more discourse about Sophie and the director. That battle's definitely NOT over.

**Supernaturalobbsessed – **Thank you!!!

**Midnight LeAnn – **I'm pretty much convinced there's nothing more adorable than drunk!Dean. Only drunk!Sam can compare. I declare a tie!

**Lemonwedges4 - **I did QUITE a lot of research for that beer scene. ;-) Just kidding. Kinda.

**On a side note, I'm really surprised none of you guys picked up on it… but Scarlett was kind of cheating at beer pong. I mean, she's throwing a ping pong ball across a table and into a cup… what are the odds she's NOT going to do that telekinetically? Dean, on the other hand, was not. That's the beauty of drunken Dean for you.**

**Spoilers: By the time the case is over, Scarlett is going to have made a decision that will bring her life one step closer to normal. But not everyone is going to agree with her choice.**

**Cutting room floor: There was going to be a conversation taking place between Scarlett and Sophie, not Castiel, and it was going to be about their respective family histories. But considering all of Scarlett's was going to be total BS, I found it irrelevant.**

**Hope you all have a great week!**

**Danielle **


	19. Chapter 19

The lamp on Sophie's desk cast a dim glow on the room as the clock beside it read 1:33 am. Neither of the girls were tired, instead, they were each allowing their respective eyes to do nothing but linger on the ceiling.

"Sophie, you awake?" Scarlett called out into the darkness.

"Yeah, I can't sleep. You too, huh?"

"Something's on my mind…" she paused hesitantly. "And I don't want you to be mad at me for what I'm about to say."

There was a dull clicking noise and a yellow glow coated the room. "What's wrong?"

The blonde sat up, her back leaning against the wall. "Look, Sam told me about what's going on in Glee Club…"

"Scarlett…" Sophie winced, turning away from her.

"No, don't. We need to talk about this. What's going on with Quint isn't normal. And there's more in play than you think there is."

Sophie exhaled deeply. "You're right, there is. I _want_ to be successful. I _want_ to make something of myself. I don't want to be some local theatre queen from some Podunk town in upstate New York. I want to be a star… and being a star requires some sacrifice. So if this is one of them, Scarlett? Then, so be it."

"It's not just your reputation that's at stake, Soph!" Scarlett exclaimed in frustration. It was hard enough to convince a twenty-two year old woman to do anything she didn't want to do, but to try to stop her from making a mistake that could potentially get her killed, when you couldn't tell her why, was an entirely different concept altogether. "I just fear for your safety. After, you know… what happened."

Sophie froze in shock. "You think… you think he had something to do with it?"

"I don't know," she admitted honestly. "But you're the first friend I've made in a really long time and I don't know what I'd do if something happened to you. Please, I'm begging you…" Scarlett ran her hands through her hair, eyes watering. "Don't do it."

"I want to make something of myself, Scarlett. I _need_ to make something of myself."

The blonde processed this slowly. "What is it your dream to do?"

The redhead glanced at the playbills tacked up on her wall. "I want to be on Broadway."

"So let's say that you sleep with Quint and get a spot on Broadway as a chorus girl," she postulated, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "And then, one day, the director offers to bump you up to a bigger role if you sleep with him, too. Do you do that too, Soph? Do you establish that reputation for yourself? Because if you do… you will _never_ be able to shake it. Ever."

The girl reached up, fingering the locket that rested around her neck. "My mother used to tell me one day my name would be in lights on Broadway and when it was, she'd be sitting in the front row."

Her hazel eyes burned into Sophie's green ones across the cramped room. "Is this the way she would have wanted her little girl to get there?"

* * *

Tuesdays brought another duo of early classes for Sam Winchester.

Luckily for him, he'd spent a little over three years perfecting how to get through the dreaded 8:10 class.

It began with setting an alarm for five am. While he had zero intention of getting up at that hour to travel to a class that was only a fifteen-minute walk away, it snapped him into awareness of his surroundings. Even though he would hit the snooze alarm four to five times, he was no longer in a deep sleep each time the alarm sounded, meaning it was easier to get up by the time it hit 6:15.

He could shower, eat breakfast, and grab coffee on the way to class, making it with fifteen to twenty minutes to spare before the lecture started.

It was a flawless routine… that was, until his brother shut off his alarm after its initial sounding.

Sam managed to make it to class with ten minutes to spare anyway, despite rolling out of bed at 7:30. But it meant sacrificing a few things, like a shower, breakfast, and coffee.

He settled into one of the chairs pushed beneath a two-seater rectangular table that had been positioned along side six others to form a row on one side of the large trailer-like building. And as he dropped his backpack next to his seat, one in from the aisle that divided the room in half, he realized his sanity had been sacrificed, as well.

He folded his arms onto the table and dropped his head down, convinced a few minutes rest would help refuel him.

Suddenly, he heard a dull noise on the left side of his head. "Looks like you could use this."

His eyelids pried apart to reveal green orbs that looked up at the person to whom the voice belonged. "I didn't think you were coming."

She shrugged her slender shoulders and sunk down into the aisle chair, turning to him. "I missed you, Sam."

"I kind of missed not being the smart one for a change," he replied with a laugh.

"Oh man, are you in need of a fix," she chuckled, sliding the paper cup towards him. "It's black. I hope that's okay… I haven't gotten to know the way you like your coffee yet."

He picked it up, taking a long sip before letting out a satisfied sigh. "Much better, thank you."

"You're welcome." She smiled at him genuinely and began to pull out her laptop from her own bag.

"Look, I know you don't want to talk about it, but…"

"You're right, I don't," she replied quickly. "I just want to sit in class with my best friend and be normal for a while, okay?"

Sam glanced down at the white plastic lid of his cup and cracked a half smile before looking back up at her. "Yeah, I can do that."

* * *

The hour of normalcy quickly ended as Scarlett and Sam left the classroom building, only to find his older brother waiting for them at the bottom of the front steps.

He rose to his feet, adjusting the collar of his leather jacket. "Hey."

She buried her hands beneath the straps of her backpack. "Hey."

"Listen…" he glanced at Sam and then back at her. "Can we talk?"

She nodded, looking up at Sam. "I'll meet you at the bus stop?"

"Sure," Sam agreed and began walking down the stairs ahead of her, but not before sharing a look with Dean as he passed.

Dean waited as she descended down to the bottom stair and then began to walk next to her. "How was class?"

She shrugged. "It was okay, I guess. Your brother really is smarter than you give him credit for."

"Oh, I know he's smart," Dean admitted. "We just don't need his head growing any larger than it already is. I mean, have you _seen_ that thing?" He laughed awkwardly and then cleared his throat. "I, um… I wanted to talk about Saturday night. I shouldn't have acted that way-"

"Yes, you should have," she cut him off. "I was the one who acted irrationally. You had every right to worry about me, even despite what I am. You acted like a boyfriend is supposed to."

"That's funny, considering I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing," he snorted. "I've never dated a girl seriously, let alone for more than a few months. I spent the one relationship I thought mattered to me hiding my entire past. I don't know how to be with someone who knows me for who I am."

Scarlett nudged him with her shoulder as they veered left towards the now-visible Impala parked in a metered space. "You're actually doing a better job than you think."

"Am I?" he stopped, swiveling until he faced her. "Because I don't know where you fit, Scarlett. It's been me and Sam for the last five years. Before that, it was me and Dad for a few more. And before _that_, it was the three of us for longer than I can remember. But it was always family in one way or another. I just…" he trailed off, his emerald eyes softening. "I just never had a space in my life for anyone else."

"Believe me, Dean, I thought that part of my life was gone forever. I never expected this to happen."

"I'm trying, Scarlett," he assured her, running a hand over his short hair. "I really am."

She reached out and ran her hand along the stubble on his cheek. "I know you are, Dean."

"If you want me to give you some space for the rest of this one, I will."

She shook her head. "That's the last thing I want you to do." She smiled at him, smoothing down the shoulders of his jacket. "Two weeks ago, I never would have believed that I would ever say this, but I missed you."

"It's kind of weird not having you around either," Dean told her, the corner of his lip twitching. "I look into the rearview mirror of the Impala and I expect to see you in the backseat, but you're not there."

"See, you _do_ know where I fit."

He quirked an eyebrow at her. "In the back seat of my car?"

A laugh escaped her lips and her arms snaked around his neck. "It's a start."

His strong arms slipped around her slender waist. "You know, you seem to fit pretty well here too."

The blonde rose slightly on her toes, pressing her lips against his. "Look at that, you're getting better already."

* * *

The Impala closed in on the grease trucks and halted behind one of the red and white buses parked out front. Scarlett slid out from the car, leaning on the open door as she scanned the bus stop for the younger Winchester. "Sam, we've got class in an hour!" she yelled to no one in particular, hoping to coax him out of the crowd.

Sure enough, a floppy-haired twenty-six year old appeared at the forefront of the masses. "You sure you want to sit through an American Revolution class with me and Dean?"

Scarlett smirked at him as he approached. "You mean you don't want to hear all of my _fantastic_ stories?"

"I just wasn't sure you wanted to hear all of my brother's stupid questions," he retorted with a laugh as she began to move away from the door.

"I heard that," Dean muttered from the driver's seat, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel while Sam began to climb into the front seat.

Getting into the back seat, she chuckled loudly and closed the door. "I think you'll enjoy all of my gallivanting during the War. I was young and wild back then."

Sam turned around and eyed her curiously. "You were forty."

"I was also one of the Daughters of Liberty," she pointed out to the incredulous brothers. "Abigail Adams and I used to trade books on a weekly basis."

"You're kidding me, right?"

"Hey, that was kind of wild by Abby's standards in that day," Scarlett replied in annoyance as the car lurched forward. "Her knowledge of philosophy and politics was why John decided to marry her in the first place."

Dean snorted, "This coming from the woman who was sexually harassed by Alexander Hamilton."

"This coming from the asshole who electrocuted himself because he used a taser while sitting in a pool of water," she shot back.

The hunter immediately grew defensive. "I was saving children!"

"You gave yourself a _heart attack_!"

"You… you're… you're… you're a…" he searched for a minute as he turned left on College Avenue. "You're half human!"

The blonde rolled her hazel eyes and turned to stare out the back window. "Good one."

* * *

Scarlett's phone began ringing loudly the moment the trio walked out of the classroom. "Hello?"

"Hey, Scarlett. Is Sam with you? I've been trying to get a hold of him for a few hours."

"Oh, hey, Sophie," she answered nonchalantly, even though her name caught the boys' attention. "Yeah, Sam's right here. We've been in class."

"Right, sorry…" she apologized. "Anyway, I know he has a paper due tomorrow morning for his investigative journalism class, but I found something I think he might want to include."

"His investigative journalism paper?" Scarlett furrowed her eyebrows together and looked at Sam. "Hold on a second, let me give Sam the phone."

Sam took the cell phone from her outstretched hand and brought it to his ear. "Hello… thanks, I appreciate it. Yeah? That's interesting… really?" His eyes nearly popped from his head. "Wow, thank you. I'll be sure to put it into my paper." Sam rubbed his forehead and nodded. "Thanks again, Sophie. I owe you one." After snapping it shut, he held it out to its owner. "We need to get to the car. Now."

The locks on the car clicked into place and Scarlett leaned over the front bench of the Impala. "So, Sophie made an interesting discovery when talking to another legacy student in the orchestra."

"What is there… an underground organization of these people?" Dean wondered allowed.

Ignoring him, Sam continued, "And apparently, there was a girl who died around ten years ago that was a violinist in the orchestra."

"A violin bow would fit the lacerations of all the victims," Scarlett commented, looking over at his brother.

"But how was that not in any of the archives in the library? And why didn't Stauffer know?"

"Sophie said she officially dropped out before she died."

Dean snorted, "And once she was off the property, she wasn't their problem anymore."

Scarlett nodded. "It's sad, but it's true."

"She dropped out three weeks before graduation and killed herself the night after the big spring orchestral showcase."

"When was the concert?" Dean asked.

"A week before the semester ended."

"So in two weeks, something happened to make her go off the deep end."

"That's what the police thought too, but nothing ever came from the investigation, right?" she responded to Dean's thought and Sam confirmed her suspicions with a nod. "It just doesn't make sense… something obviously caused her to leave. Maybe it went from bad to worse."

"Did you get a name, Sam?"

"Yeah, he did," she affirmed as a smile played on her lips. "And because it was for _Sam_," she added, causing the younger Winchester's eyes to dart uncomfortably, "I got a text message with an address too."

* * *

The house was in the heart of New Jersey suburbia and seemed no more out of place than any other house on the block. There were two cars in the driveway, a Honda and a Chevrolet, and the lawn that resided around it was perfectly manicured. It was the perfect picture of a middle class neighborhood.

"May I help you?" a woman answered the door, dressed in a pair of white slacks and a matching blazer.

"I'm Special Agent Richards with the FBI," Dean introduced himself, pulling his fake FBI badge from the inner pocket of his jacket. "This is my partner, Agent Wood." He gestured to his brother, who repeated the motion. "And this is State Detective Turner," Dean added, looking over at Scarlett who flashed the woman her badge. "We're looking to speak with Mrs. Patricia or Mr. Robert Heller."

The woman with the shoulder length chestnut hair stared at the trio for a moment, her lips pursed before replying, "I'm Patricia Heller."

"Mrs. Heller, we're very sorry to show up unannounced in the middle of the afternoon, but we have new evidence regarding the death of your daughter, Colleen," Scarlett addressed her, tucking her badge back into her own blazer. "And the state of New Jersey is reopening the case."

"I-I don't understand," Patricia stammered. "Colleen's been gone for eight years."

"We realize this may come as a shock to you, Mrs. Heller," Sam spoke to her kindly, taking a step forward. "But there may have been circumstances surrounding your daughter's death that the local police were not aware of at the time. The state sought out our help in launching a full investigation, in anticipation of this case taking us outside of Detective Turner's jurisdiction. If it's alright with you, we'd like to ask you a few questions."

Mrs. Heller took a few moments to process the information before pushing open her front door further and standing aside. "Of course, of course. Please, come in."

Scarlett walked into the home first, the Winchester brothers not far behind, and immediately noted the state of the house. From the tiled floors to the carpeting, there wasn't so much as a speck of dirt to be found and family photos could be found somewhere in every room of the house.

Dean decided he'd be the first to ask the mother a question. "Did you notice a change in Colleen between the time she dropped out of school and the night of her passing?"

"For the first few days she was home, Coll was very quiet. She stayed in her room, kept to herself. She didn't so much as speak to her siblings, both of whom she was close with, and we brought her meals to her bedroom," Patricia recalled as she walked into the kitchen and sank into one of the beige chairs. "I knew she was going through a rough time in her life and I felt like she needed some space. It seemed to work for a little while and she was seeing some of her friends who had graduated the year or two before her. She was even going out on the weekend."

"So it was gradual?"

"Yes, it was. But then, the morning before… she was back to the way she had been when she first came home. It was like someone had pressed the reset button."

"I see," Dean replied, scribbling something in his small notepad.

"Mrs. Heller, do you still have any of Colleen's belongings?" Sam inquired softly.

"Yes, her room has been the same way for the last eight years," Patricia answered a little standoffishly. "But I don't see how that is relevant."

Sam continued anyway. "Could you please show us her bedroom?"

"The policemen already looked at it…"

"I understand that, Mrs. Heller," Dean interred with a firm tone to his voice. "But it's become clear that there were things they overlooked during the initial investigation and we're trying to fix that in the best way possible."

"Of… of course you can. I apologize if I don't seem cooperative," Patricia stated suddenly. "This just comes as a shock to me."

"I know that this is very difficult to process, Mrs. Heller," Scarlett adjusted the clear lens glasses on the bridge of her nose. "You've spent the last eight years dealing with your grief, learning how to live your life without Colleen in it, and now we've showed up at your door, asking you to rehash a personal tragedy all over again. Believe me…" She pressed her hand to her chest. "I understand. I lost my mother when I was sixteen years old and even though it's been decades since she passed, the grief is still there. We're not here to bring you pain, Mrs. Heller. We're here to bring your daughter the justice she deserves."

The woman's face froze for a moment and then morphed into something reminiscent of a smile, her thin lips pursed together as if she was struggling to keep it together. "Up the stairs, second door on your right."

* * *

Dean cracked open the door slowly before walking inside, with Scarlett and Sam trailing behind him. The room was absolutely pristine, without a speck of dust to be found. This wasn't exactly out of the ordinary, no matter how odd it seemed. The parents of deceased children usually kept their rooms exactly how they had left them and even cleaned them regularly to prevent any dust from settling in. More often then not, it was in an effort to go on with their lives like the child was still living there.

He turned back to look at the lone woman in the room. "Do you have the copy of the police report?"

"Yeah." She pulled out a folded packet of paper from the inside pocket of her blazer and carefully separated the pages. "There's nothing that really strikes me as out of the ordinary. It says that she hung herself in the closet and that they found a suicide note on the desk. That's about it. You can read the note for yourself."

Dean took the paper from her hands and Sam grabbed the crime scene photos. "The desk looks exactly the same as the day she died. Every book, notepad, decoration… they didn't take any evidence off of it."

Scarlett walked over to the desk. "You think they missed something?"

"Well, _something_ set off the change in her," Sam replied, running his hand along the ledge of the desk. "It wasn't arbitrary."

"So whatever caused her to snap, it has to be here," Dean surmised, beginning to glance around Colleen's old dresser.

As Scarlett began to nod, something on the desk caught her eyes. "Do either of you guys have a pencil?"

Dean snorted, "Don't look at me. I don't exactly carry a sharpener around with me in the Impala." Sam rolled his eyes and pulled out a yellow number two pencil from his jacket pocket. "You would."

"Bite me."

Ignoring the bickering brothers, Scarlett ripped off a blank sheet of paper from a white pad on the girl's desk. Clutching the pencil in her hand and holding the paper firmly over one of the small blue exam booklets on the surface, she began to rub the lead against the surface. A few moments later, she held up the gray paper with a satisfied smile on her face. "Bingo."

Dean took the paper from her slender fingers. "Looks like a letter," he noted, green eyes roaming over the sheet. "It's signed by Colleen, but it's cut off at the top… no indication of who it was being written to."

"Let me see." Sam held out his hand and grabbed the paper from his older brother. "Sounds about right to me," he agreed, scanning over the content.

* * *

_I never had the chance to see you before I left school and even if I had, I wouldn't have been able to tell you anything that mattered. I was broken in ways you couldn't even imagine. Then again, we both know you never really possessed the creative mind you claimed to have in the first place._

_It's said that at the very end of your life, right before you die, you experience a sense of unparalleled clarity. Perhaps then, it's very fitting that I've never seen everything clearer than I do today. And there are a few things I'd like to get off my chest._

_You encouraged me to do better, to make my work better._ _But it was just part of your plan… your sick, twisted scheme. You knew what I was capable of and what I had the potential to do, so you pushed. And you pushed, when you knew I would never push back. Not against you. _

_It was bad enough that you stole what I had slaved over for years and manipulated me into handing it over to you. But then, when it was finally going to be MY shining moment in the sun, you couldn't bare to let me have it. After all of the promises you made me, when the time came, you proved you were nothing but a liar and a thief. _

_I realize that it's unlikely anyone will ever find out the truth, but you and I both know that a Stradivari in the hands of a man does not make him a musician; it is the music that lies within his mind. _

_My blood will be on your hands…forever._

_- Colleen

* * *

_

"So whoever this guy is that she wrote the letter to, he obviously stole something she created… maybe a composition of hers?" Sam suggested.

Scarlett agreed. "The way she says that she wouldn't have pushed back against him… maybe the guy was her boyfriend."

"Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned," Dean stated. "I think we have everything we need from up here. Let's ask the mother about the guy and then we'll head back."

"Mrs. Heller, we pretty much have everything we need from your daughter's room. Do you mind if we ask you a few questions before we leave?" Scarlett asked, taking the lead on the investigation after Patricia had clearly demonstrated somewhat of a comfort level with her.

"Of course, whatever you need."

The blonde's lips curved at her graciously. "It says in the report that Colleen wasn't dating anyone at the time. Were there any boys at school she showed any interest in?"

Patricia placed a hand over her mouth in thought before curling it under her chin. "Not anyone I can really think of at the moment… oh! There was one boy she used to talk a lot about her first few years of college, but not so much at the end. I don't think anything ever came of it and my husband and I were never introduced to him on our visits."

"Do you remember his name?" Dean piped in.

She shook her head regretfully. "I'm sorry, I don't. It's been so long…"

"I understand, Mrs. Heller," Scarlett replied sympathetically and retrieved a card from the thin pouch behind her badge. "Here is my card with my cell number on it. If you or your husband remember the boy's name, or anything else you think is of significance, please give me a call."

The girl's mother took the card from her and stared at it a moment. "I will, thank you."

Scarlett retreated through the door, the Winchesters falling in step behind her. As soon as the three slid into the car and shut their doors, she pulled out the letter once more. "It's in here, guys. I'm telling you… I feel it in my bones."

* * *

**A/N: I'm awful. It's been too long since I updated. Between finals and procuring my dream job, my life has been chaotic. But I'm home again and settled into work, with a long enough commute to kick around ideas on the train. That seemed to work out really well last summer when I spent the entire train ride home concocting the idea for this story in my head and in my little notebook. Hopefully, lightning will strike twice.**

**I also really needed to map out where this case was going. I always knew the conclusion, but I had to figure out how to get there in true Supernatural episodic style. This being the first case I incorporated, I'll admit to struggling with it. However, I'm getting there.**

**I'm not really going to go into the whole finale and pick it apart because I truly loved the entire episode, especially after letting it weigh on my mind for twenty-four hours. The only part of the episode I didn't like, as all of you who follow my twitter will recall, was the insertion of Lisa Braden. I'm pretty sure some super SPN sleuths have figured out that she and Dean have spent a total of two and a half weeks together, so I find their "relationship" to be absolutely ludicrous. That… and the fact that she's nowhere near as compatible with him as other females who have been on the show, such as Jo, who you know I loved, and even Bela, who I was lukewarm about at best. I'm totally cold on the woman once referred to as Gumby Girl (and yes, that does make Dean Pokey)… you can cue up the Foreigner song right now.**

**Oh… and on the subject of Twitter, you can follow me there. My username over there is also Jewelgirl04 and I'll tweet a lot about SPN stuff over there, as well as little ideas and quotes AS I WRITE THEM. I also tweet as soon as an update goes live. Feel free to follow, just note that it is locked, so you'll have to have a Twitter account to follow me. Sorry guys, privacy issues.**

**Shout-outs (I definitely encourage you to read my responses to other reviewers as I tend to give out hints and sneak peeks of what's to come, as well as some interesting explanations as to why I chose to write things a certain way):**

**Max Alleyne – **So glad you like the story! It's always great to hear that I'm keeping things interesting and that I'm not making readers roll their eyes! I sincerely hope you enjoy this chapter, as well!

**Mahlia – **Thank you! My birthday was totally awesome and I had a fantastic time. My friends threw me a surprise party in my apartment and it was just awesome. I kind of like exploring some of their daily routine at Rutgers because it gives you a taste of a what if scenario. You kind of get to see the way Sam might have been at Stanford and how totally in over his head Dean is. It makes for some humor. This chapter included a lot of their interpersonal drama and somewhat resolved that. There's definitely going to be a chapter in the very near future that further addresses Dean and Scarlett's soulmate status. Obviously, unlike Sam, Dean is totally unskilled on the art of the relationship. But it definitely makes for some interesting material.

On the subject of Scarlett and Sam, I think they have more of a brother and sister relationship. Both have had incredibly rocky lives with circumstances that run parallel to each other. For me, as a writer, it would have been incredibly easy to just throw them together because they identify with each other so well. However, while I talk about how damaged Dean is a lot, Sam is just as broken in spirit, Apocalypse aside. He blames himself for their situation, stemming from his mother's death because that set off a chain of events that led to Jessica dying and John dying and Dean dying and all of these other horrific things. Scarlett also feels like her parents' deaths and Andrew and his parents' deaths are on her shoulders, as well. Throwing two people who are so damaged in nearly the exact same way together has the potential to combust and that's why I never believed that Sam and Scarlett were a good match. I honestly think she's better as a pseudo-mentor to Sam _because_ she's gone through all that and _because_ she wears her heart on her sleeve like he does. When Sam's clearly down on himself, it's not like Dean doesn't see it, but she's going to be the one that's going to actively seek him out and try to work through it with him. That's really where Dean and Scarlett differ, but that's why she's the more stable yin to Dean's chaotic yang.

**Nehasupnfan – **And I'm back, yet again! Finals went decently, but I'm happy it's finally over. On the topic of Supernatural, I'm totally going to miss Richard too, but I have a feeling he's still going to come to conventions. He loves it too much! I guess it doesn't make a lot of sense to Scarlett why her match is Dean. Here, she's this highly intellectual lawyer who wears her emotions on her sleeve and the powers that be paired her with an emotionally-stunted hunter who barely got his GED. Looks aside (I know, I know…), wouldn't you be a tad disappointed too? Especially when you have the incredibly intelligent, understanding, and equally attractive Sam Winchester around?

**Lemonwedges4 – **Thank you! So far, everyone seems to like the contemplation of Samlett. That sounds so Shakespearean.

**Midnight LeAnn – **That's a hell of an argument. And yeah… finals suck, but they're done! WOO HOO!

**Giftiebee – **Come on, Britt. You know I'd never steer you wrong! Sorry I distracted you, but I'm pretty sure you deserve some sanity once in a while, even if it comes at the Winchesters' expense! Thank you for the fantastic compliments… it means so much to me, considering, like you said, you've read my stuff from the very beginning when I didn't know 100 different synonyms for the word 'said.' Thank you for sticking by me and continuing to read my work. I can't wait until your first SPN story goes up… it'll get a big recommendation from me over here!

**Aaron W – **Thanks for following me over here from the wrestling section! It is greatly appreciated! I think you're going to enjoy where the story goes from here, especially what comes after this case is solved. It's a gamechanger.

**JulietaGabbana – **Oh please, don't apologize! I'm just happy you got to read it. You didn't have to wait as long as everyone else did! Haha. The frat party was a lot of fun to write, mainly because I was able to incorporate some of the ridiculous things that occur on the College Avenue campus into it. I really didn't research the beer scene too much as I was writing the chapter because to be honest, I find everything about beer revolting. I'm just hyper competitive, which is why I like the game, and I often make my partner drink the cups that are supposed to be mine. Or I cheat and pour all of my cups into one cup… and then just redistribute it when we set up for the next game without taking a single sip. On the subject of Dean and Scarlett, I'd definitely advise that you read my review reply to Mahlia, which explains why I feel they belong together. I promise, no fast ones. A lot of that doubt comes from the level of seriousness that their relationship is currently hovering around. In less than a month, they find out they're soulmates and meant to spend the rest of their lives together. People spend their lives looking for their soulmate and even if you think you've found him or her, there's never any true indication that you have. You go by your gut and your heart. Dean and Scarlett have stone cold proof of their match. It's a terrifying concept, especially when you consider that many people are commitment-phobes and can be five or six years into a serious relationship without the thought of marriage even crossing their minds. For Dean and Scarlett, there's no precedent for their situation. They're writing the rules as they go. And thanks for the props… the fact that you enjoy it makes those 3:30 mornings worth it. I'm currently running on a 5am morning right now.

**Esica – **Thanks! Hope you like this one too!

**SPOILERS: Scarlett will come to see that the key to the case is not just the mystery letter, but what it was written on, and while she's contemplating making a choice that's going to change her life, it's Sam's personal discovery that sways her in a certain direction.**

**CUTTING ROOM FLOOR: The makeup scene between Dean and Scarlett was going to be significantly different, but when I went over it, I realized it was too schmoopy for Dean. The heart of his personality is in that scene: his dedication to those he considers family, his frustrations, and of course, his reference to the magic that occurs in the backseat of the Impala. Yet, there's one sweet moment at the end of the conversation and while it's not so much that it totally deviates from his M.O., it's just enough to show that he is changing and adapting a little bit, even though he doesn't think so.**

**I hope you all have a great weekend and for those of you still in session, a fantastic LONG weekend. Remember those who gave their lives for our country and pray for those who are still fighting for our freedoms at home and abroad.**

**Danielle**


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